


Children of Atom

by NeonTitanium



Category: Septicplier, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Amy is an amazing ex-girlfriend, Animal Death, Anxiety, Chica is a good girl, Crying, Diners, Discrimination, Domestic, Drinking Games, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empathy, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It was a mistaken assumption - no one is suicidal or actually self-harms in this fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark Whumping, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overthinking, Pillow Talk, Pining, References to Drugs, Scars, Secret Identity, Secrets, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Superpowers, Surprise Party, Texting, Triggers, Truth or Dare, fight, hand holding, minor daddy kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonTitanium/pseuds/NeonTitanium
Summary: I DO NOT GIVE "FANFIC POCKET ARCHIVE LIBRARY" PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK! THEY ARE STEALING FANFICTIONS! THEY ARE MONETIZING WORK THEY HAVE NO RIGHT TO PUBLISH! THEY ARE MAKING MONEY OFF OF OTHER PEOPLE'S WORK! DO NOT USE THEIR APP!See notes before fic for more details!"Sean let the flames lick his skin, let them burn the calluses on his fingers from hours of playing drums, let them dig into the scars on his wrist and forearm, let them slowly devour his Bloodborne tattoo. And then, with a deep breathe in, he felt the flames slow. They crawled, never fading, but they came to a pause, hued blue, like soothing gel, and gently, oh so gently, Jack let himself breathe out. The iced fire had melted into water, not a tsunami, but a raindrop on a car window. The droplets trickled down, pooling at the tips of each of his fingers, until the weight became too much and they lost their grip, falling to the floor, each release loosening the knot in his stomach."Sean has a month left in America. A month left to tell Mark how he feels. A month left to save as many people as possible. A month left to find out whoever this mysterious 'Anti' is.





	1. Fire at My Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> AN APP IS STEALING AO3 FANFICS AND MAKING MONEY OFF OF THEM! Please don't use "Fanfic Pocket Archive Library! This app is unethical and exploitive. Please check out this Tumblr thread for more details:  
https://winchestersingerautorepair.tumblr.com/post/190849729650/attention
> 
> \---
> 
> Hey,
> 
> So, I haven't written any fics for a few years, but the Septicplier fandom got me back into writing, so here you go I guess.
> 
> WIP, I commute via train every day to my new job now, so loads more time to write for you guys!
> 
> The 'Anti' in the fic description is not Antisepticeye. It is a separate person who goes by the alter ego name 'Anti' as it is a joke I am setting up for further chapters. Sorry to disappoint. I love our little glitch bich, too! Future fic, maybe?
> 
> Tags Warnings: Mention of Suicide/Self-Harm: No one in my fic is suicidal or self-harms. A character assumes another character is self-harming due to an injury on their wrist, and the injured character makes no effort to correct the mistake. Future chapters may explore this miscommunication and may talk more in detail about this topic. Also, due to the theme of this fic, I may include a minor plot about a non-main character who is suicidal who is saved, so giving you all the heads up now before you get invested. Stay safe, my bros. We love you x
> 
> Also, yes, I am aware that Septicplier isn't real. Warfstash shot it dead in Markiplier TV, and I respect that. So, I don't claim anything to be canon or real, and I respect Mark and Sean's privacy, and you should too. It's fun to think about it, but harassing them and trying to make out that they love each other IRL is gonna harm the fandom and their friendship. So, yeah, this fic is exactly that, FICTION. Thanks, my lovely peeps. Enjoy the fake story!

The skyline was on fire. It was burning a rich, auburn glow that shimmered at the tips of the concrete pillars. It was harsh to look at, but it was encapsulating. Sean lent back on his car bonnet and watched it kindle into the deep shades of blue. It had been doing this every evening this summer. Nothing new about it.

With the sun now set, a chill swept over the hillside. Sean moved his hand on the metal beneath him, soaking in the remaining heat that was left. He had forgot a jacket again. Well, it wasn't like he was gonna stay in these clothes much longer anyway.

The beer in his hand was now too warm to enjoy. Giving a sigh, Sean held his arm out and poured the rest of his drink on the ground. Considering this spot overlooking the city was a popular hangout for the young drunk hooligans, it wouldn't have surprised Sean if the grass had evolved to draw nutrition from booze instead of water. Wouldn't be the only thing in this city that had evolved recently.

With the last flicker of the sun finally behind the skyscrapers, Sean hopped off his bonnet and rounded to the driver's side, throwing the door open and jumping in. He turned his head to eye the backpack in the back seat. It was still there - of course it was still there, why would it be anywhere else? But he was paranoid, rightly so, so reaching behind him to pat the bag, as if to reconfirm that his eyes were telling the truth, Sean smiled to himself and began the car.

He had been doing this song and dance every night for the past two months. It had become a routine now, which he should probably have broken earlier on so as not to get caught. Repetition is just asking to get caught. But it had planted itself in his brain now, and he felt like there was no going back. Anyway, he only had a month left here in LA. If he managed to avoid the authorities for that time, then would be nothing to worry about. He could escape back to Britain with no harm done. Although, he would miss America; Britain is definitely safer, that's for sure. Safe and boring.

Pulling into the intersection, Sean watched the few headlights littering the roads around him. It was quiet, always was this late in the evening, with most people tucked into bed, or curled up on the sofa, or maybe safely at their workplaces doing a night shift. As he passed a junction advertising a 24-hour McDonalds, Sean felt tempted. He had skipped his coffee earlier that day. Chica had picked up one of her toys and had dropped it at Sean's feet, and who could say no to an angel like Chica?

Chica, Chica, Chica: another thing he'd miss about America. Sean gave a small, sad smile to himself and continued past the turn-off, opting to stay out of any CCTV tonight. It was Mark's birthday in two days. Mark didn't need to spend his birthday with his dumb-ass friend behind bars because he wanted a fucking coffee.

Sean gripped the steering wheel. He was being stupid. He wasn't going to get arrested. There's no way anyone would be able to identify him from CCTV. There was a reason that he wore a mask when he was working.

Speaking of which, Sean thought about the night ahead of him. He groaned as a bump in the road jolted his wrist on the steering wheel, reminding him of last night's endeavours. He had guns waving in his face; how was he supposed to know that one of them had a knife? Thankfully it wasn't too bad. He had dealt with worst cuts in his life, like the time he split his knee on the patio paving when he was seven, or the time he saw his brother in the hospital after his motorbike accident. He could deal with a few stitches. He only went to the ER after Mark found him huddled over the bathroom sink at 3am, a towel wrapped around his wrist. Mark never said anything, but Sean knew that he had assumed the worst, so just gave his friend a hug and drove him to the hospital. It was kinda mean and sadistic to let his friend believe he was depressed - Mark's assumption, that's not Sean's fault - but the alternative was telling Mark the truth, and, well, he couldn't do that. Not yet at least.

Sean pushed the guilt aside, eyeing the junction he needed to take. He exited the interstate, following the road, turning down a dirt road, and pulled up behind an old, abandoned warehouse. It was in the middle of a field, close to the edge of the city, far enough away that no one would bother it for a few hours, but close enough that he had a quick get away.

He turned the engine off, letting his hands pause while he took a deep breathe. The city in front of him was glistening. The view wasn't as broad as his sunset vantage point, but man, did LA have a sparkle that nowhere in Ireland except the night sky could challenge. It was a shame that between each glistening neon light was filth and corruption, death and pain that Sean had the unfortunate job of witnessing every night. Although, he shouldn't complain. He was the one who decides to do this. He had to.

Instead of opening his door, he unbuckled himself and swerved around and climbed into the back. He let his weight fall onto the backseat as he heaved his backpack onto his lap. Pulling out his suit, he cringed a little, but a strong sense of pride was wiltering at the edges. He made this. He made this, with nothing but two old hoodies, tracksuit bottoms and a ski mask. He made this. It was ugly, and colourful, and blood stained, and iconic, and oh, so battered. If he could afford a new one, he would.

He grabbed his shirt by his neck and tugged it upwards, tossing it aside. The chilled air from outside was already seeping in through the cracks in the doors, making the hairs on his chest prickle with a shiver. At least the suit was warmer. He pulled the amalgamation of hoodies over his head, the cotton was soft, expect the patch of dried blood he hadn't managed to wash out, which itched the scar in his left hip from the pocket knife he fell into a month ago; as we've established, Sean was familiar with bad cuts.

His pants came off next. He lay back on the seats, wiggling his hips to edge his jeans over the curves of his pelvis. He thought to himself, 'this is the epitome of my sex life'. Awkward, clumsy, yet humourously charming. He could imagine having sex in the back of this car one day. It probably wouldn't be good sex - heck, he'd probably laugh way too much to even orgasm properly - but he was sure it would be one to remember, one to laugh about to his drunk friends when he's in this late-30s depressingly married with two monsters running around his ankles.

He slipped his tracksuit bottoms on and pulled them up, sinking into the loose fitting. He could fall asleep right now. He really shouldn't, though. He would never be able to forgive himself if he fell asleep right now and woke up to the news that a family had been murdered, or some student on a night out got sexually assaulted, or anything that these filthy motherfuckers could fathom committing tonight.

Lastly, he fished his ski mask out of the bottom of the bag. He held it in his palms, a finger circling the black net eye holes. It blurred his vision, so sometimes he stumbled over curbs or into lampposts, especially during chases, but when confronting people on the streets, it wasn't a problem. Far from it, really. He could close his eyes and still be able to talk to them.

Sean let the corner of his mouth rise in a small smile before he pulled the mask over his face. Checking the coast was clear, he opened the car door, sliding out and made his way further into the city.

The city ached of stubborn irritance as the drunks stumbling around regretted not bringing jackets, and the homeless envied them as they slantered past. Sean pressed himself against the wall of the alley, the shadows cascading around him. He could hear their giggles and shouts, the pack of shufflers making their way home. The bars had just shut, last calls made an hour ago, so thankfully this should be the last of them for the night. Best to keep an eye on them, though.

From what Sean could tell from his hiding spot, the group had six people. Three were annoyed - probably from painful high heels - two were joyous, and one was horny. Sean rolled his eyes. He couldn't see the group, but he made bets in his head that the horny one was a male. He really didn't want to, but he focused on him more. He had a fire in his gut, a lust that burned all the way from his groin to his stomach, shooting sparks down his arms, which landed and ignited smoke in his fists.

Sean's own fists tingled. He'd felt this before, in the hands of the angered, but the burning was so purely lust that Sean had to pull himself out of his meditation to figure out what it meant. Violent sex? Did this guy have a kink? Was he planning on assaulting one of his peers?

Now that his focus was away from the horny man, a new person appeared on his radar. It was stronger than the other five in the group, and it fell straight into Sean's stomach. Fear.

Moving towards the end of the alley, Sean peered around the corner, finally setting his eyes on the group for the first time. He was right about the lustful male; he was very drunk, wobbling, waving his arms around, making a bee-line towards a doorway where a homeless woman was sat, huddled in her sleeping blanket.

Oh god, Sean finally figured out where the anger in the lust had come from. He was trying to impress one of the girls with violence. Sean was sure that if they were all sober, that this would never impress the girls, not in a million years, and they would see the red flags and go running for the hills. However, stupidly drunk and entertained so easily, one of the girls started cheering the man on, screaming "get the hag" as he towered over the poor woman.

Sean stepped out from the alley and walked hastily towards them. He didn't run, he didn't want to attack without conviction, and if he could solve the conflict without violence, that would be the best result for everyone.

He reached the group, slowing down to stop a few steps back. He focused back on the same man again, the sting from his hands returning, his stomach curdling from the smoke. The man turned to face him, and Sean felt his jaw tingle. The man found it humourous.

"What the fuck?" the man asked, a booming laugh echoing each syllable. The group chuckled, one of the girls shooting a "fag" at Sean. Whatever, they didn't matter right now.

Sean let himself close his eyes. He started to feel more. The edges of his body grew. The man was taller than his, and his muscles were definitely more defined than Sean's, so the feeling of growing comforted Sean. Sometimes when he did this with people who had a smaller frame than him, it gave him a migraine.

The man scoffed. "You deaf or something?" Sean hadn't replied. A scuffle of material came from behind the man, so Sean assumed the homeless lady had fled. Good. She didn't deserve anything this man was gonna do to her.

Sean let the flames lick his skin, let them burn the calluses on his fingers from hours of playing drums, let them dig into the scars on his wrist and forearm, let them slowly devour his Bloodborne tattoo. And then, with a deep breathe in, he felt the flames slow. They crawled, never fading, but they came to a pause, hued blue, like soothing gel, and gently, oh so gently, Jack let himself breathe out. The iced fire had melted into water, not a tsunami, but a raindrop on a car window. The droplets trickled down, pooling at the tips of each of his fingers, until the weight became too much and they lost their grip, falling to the floor, each release loosening the knot in his stomach.

Sean let his eyes slowly roll open. The man was staring at him, a look of serene peace on his face. His eyes fluttered, his chest hardly moving with breaths, and his shoulders looked so deeply relaxed that Sean envied him, wishing his masseuse could even achieve half the effect this man was currently experiencing.

One of the girls in the group hit the man's arm. "Pete, what the fuck?" Sean smirked to himself from under his mask. Sorry, love, guess he's not pinning you to the mattress tonight.

Without a word, Sean turned and walked away. He ignored the calls from the confused group. They were probably expecting a fight, they were probably expecting threats. But no. Sean wasn't like the other Atoms. Sean was nothing like them.

As he approached the alley, eager to sink back into the shadows, he saw a poster hastily slapped onto the wall. A radioactive symbol, blood red and sharp, with a cackled warning clawed across it. 'ATOMS KILL!' Across the bottom, a link to the Pure Human Society's website.

Atoms kill.

Sean stopped breathing for a second, but only for a second, before letting the poster pass him by as he entered the alley.

Sean is nothing like other Atoms.


	2. Joy on My Cheeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've now decided, this fic takes place June 2020. It's Mark's 31st birthday in tomorrow-canon. It's so I can set up a joke in a future chapter.

It was still dark when Sean made it back to Mark's house. The moment he entered the garden, the tiredness from the night hit him all at once. The front door creaked open, the floorboards under the living room carpet screeched, and by the time he made it safe into the kitchen and he felt confident with his bare feet padding across the tiles, Chica came running in behind him, her claws click-clacking a jingle that echoed throughout the house.

She whimpered up at Sean. "No." Sean opened the cabinet to the coffee, keeping his movements as quiet at his voice. "Now's not the time to play, Chica. You should be asleep."

"You should be asleep as well."

Sean whipped his head around to where the whisper came from, his chest palpating in split fear. He let out a shaky breath and clutched his heart. "Jesus, Mark," he said, allowing his voice to raise.

Mark didn't look impressed. His arms were crossed, he was breathing through his nose, and his eyes held a tired concern to them. He breathed in, taking a step into the kitchen. "How long have you been awake?" Good, Mark thought Sean had been asleep this whole time. Guess it was a good thing Sean decided to pack some pyjamas in his backpack as well.

Sean turned away to continue making his coffee. At least he didn't have to worry about the coffee machine making loud noises anymore. He spoke as he put the capsule in the machine, "Got too much going on in my head right now."

Mark hummed. Sean turned to watch as Mark continued to approach, slipping himself next to Sean to lean on the counter. Sean noticed his clothes. "Have you slept yet?"

Mark grumbled. "Just woke up."

Sean felt guilty. "Sorry," he mumbled before continuing, "Why'd you sleep in your day clothes?"

Mark's eyes widened for a split second before he lazily smirked at Sean. "I fell asleep editing."

Sean turned to watch the last of his coffee drip into his mug. "You need to stop staying up at night working." Oh, the irony wasn't lost on Sean. "You're gonna mess up your head of you don't have a schedule." He turned to lean next to Mark, taking a sip of his drink.

Mark had his eyes closed. He looked so drained, like somewhere between his bedroom and the kitchen he had crossed paths briefly with a dementor, and now wasn't sure if he needed to sleep for ten hours or ten years.

Mark kept his eyes shut as he shrugged. "I'm okay." He breathed in, willing his eyes to look at Sean. "I'm more worried about you at the moment."

Sean tried to hide his brief panic behind a sip of coffee. Surely, Mark didn't know. "Why?"

Mark turned his body to face Sean, his eyes whipping to Sean's wrist, quickly looking away a nano-second later, as if he saw something he wasn't supposed to. He looked at Sean's chest as he spoke. "You're different."

Sean could see where this was going. Either, Mark would let himself believe Sean was hurting himself and would panic, or Sean would tell Mark the truth and he would panic. Either way, the outcomes of this conversation were not pleasant, so Sean chose to avoid the conversation altogether. "You want a coffee?"

Mark sighed. "No, thanks. I gotta sleep."

Sean gave him a sweet smile and whispered, "Go sleep, then."

Mark didn't move for a second, and Sean worried he was going to force the conversation, but Mark's shoulders dropped, his head fell to face the ground, and he nodded. "Night," he mumbled, slouching away from the counter and through the door.

Sean looked down at Chica, who was gnawing at a chew-bone by his feet. She didn't seem interested in what had just transpired. "I'm okay, Chica," Sean whispered, "I swear." She didn't care. She loved him all the same.

\---

At breakfast the next day, Mark seemed a bit better. The bags under his eyes still coloured his face. Sean would never admit it out loud, but it made Mark look like he was wearing eyeliner, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Sean found Darkiplier just a little bit sexy. Mark poked at his pancakes - Sean's treat to him for being such a good host - but the hums he made after every bite was enough of a thanks for Sean.

Mark snuffled as he raised his coffee to his lips. "You got plans today?" Oh yes, Sean had plans. Nobody spends the day before their best friend's surprise party doing nothing. Wade, Bob and Amy we're meeting him at Amy's so they could execute their plan, the two males having flown out to LA especially for Mark, both telling him they were visiting family (which wasn't a lie.) As far as Mark knew, he and Sean were just going out for lunch together, nothing big. Mark had given up on grand birthday parties after his 21st, and since alcohol was now off the table for him, he just didn't see the point on going out anymore. Something quiet with his close friends and cuddles from Chica was enough. But his friends had other ideas.

Sean gave Mark a shrug in reply to his question. "Was gonna go hang with Wade." It was best to keep his story close to the truth.

Mark squinted. "Thought Wade was busy today. Fixing his aunt's car, or something." 'Damn it, Wade', Sean thought. They should have confirmed stories before-hand.

"I'm gonna help him," Sean lied. Mark watched him for a second, but he dropped it. Part of Sean knew, deep down, that Mark had probably figured out the whole surprise party thing but was being too nice to mention it. It was just like Mark, really. Mark seemed to see through people's bullshit quite easily, so hiding secrets from him was near impossib--

Sean's hand pause with his fork-full of pancakes halfway to his lips. No, there was no way Mark could have figured out his night-time secret, could he? He took the mouthful of food before Mark noticed and shrugged it off. He was being paranoid. Mark would have mentioned something if he knew. He would have told Sean to stop. No, scratch that. He would kick Sean out if he knew. He would disown him as a friend and report him to the authorities.

No, Sean thought, Mark wouldn't do that to him. Mark was the greatest friend he had. He's always stood up for those who are different. He scared off a creep that was hitting on a girl in a bar on one of their nights out. He congratulated a gay couple after they proposed at one of their con panels. For god sake, he had even sent out a tweet a month ago expressing his disapproval of the persecution against Atoms. He wouldn't hate Sean if he told him he was one of them.

Mark finished up his pancakes, giving Sean a smile. It was the first time he looked lively this morning, and it warmed Sean's chest. "Thank you," he said yet again for the seventh time since Sean first woke him with the smell of sizzling batter. He didn't raise from the table, though. He stayed put, smiling at Sean. It was silent, a comfortable silence, and Sean had to look down at his plate to stop himself from laughing in spite of themselves.

Mark chuckled. "Hey," he almost whispered. Sean looked up. "How're you doing today?"

Truth be told, the bruised ribs from the punch from the drug dealer last night was burning his side, but Sean ignored it. He nodded, "I'm alright."

Mark reached his hand across the table and took ahold of Sean's hand that wasn't currently shovelling his third helping of pancakes into his mouth. Mark's fingers brushed against where the bandage wrapped his wrist. He breathed in, as if thinking about what he was going to say next, before letting out a breath with a small smile. "You know, Sean, you can tell me anything, right?"

Sean looked down at his pancakes and shrugged. "Yeah, I know." Shit, he was actually starting to hurt from the guilt of letting Mark think he was hurting himself. Sean was fine, completely find, if not for the stress of his identity and circumstance. Other than that, he was the happiest he had ever been. Positive mental attitude, and all that.

Mark rubbed the back of his thumb with his own thumb. "Sean," he whispered.

Sean wanted to pull his hand away, but he kept it there. For as much as he doesn't want to let Mark know, he also doesn't want Mark to think he doesn't trust him. He eyed their hands together, and with a small smile, he turned his hand over and let Mark's fingers run gently across the palm of his hand. They weren't quite holding hands this way, but it felt more intimate. His own fingers stretched out and ran across the crease at Mark's wrist, feeling as the ligaments twitched as each of Mark's fingers moved, like a puppet animatronic.

He raised his eyes to look at Mark, who was still lazily smiling at him. Mark spoke softly, "I'm gonna miss you when you leave again."

Sean sighed. He didn't want to leave. He was at peace here with Mark. It felt like home. Brighton was lonely - sure, Felix was nearby, but it just wasn't the same. Felix was all banter and memes, but Mark... Mark was warmth, and security, and home.

It took everything within Sean to not tell Mark that he wanted to stay here forever. It would have been cringy, but also his plan for evading the authorities required his return to Brighton. If he stayed, who knows what the American government would do to him.

It was strange how America reacted to the Atoms. Granted, it was the American military's fault it had happened. Experiment bomb, chemical radiation, thousands effected. That's as much as the media had gather in the two months since the accident. No one died, thankfully, but the life-changing effects of the chemical had certain been a death sentence to those innocent people who had mutated. Sean had only been in the country for two days when it happened; worst case of wrong place, wrong time ever.

But the rest of the world? As ever, they were more accepting. Sure, they too were worried about the potential Atom criminals. The girl who hypnotised security guards into letting her rob a bank, and the man who pulled a policeman's eyes out of their sockets without laying a finger on him, the kid who's game of pirates with his friends turned all too real when his plastic sword became metal: these were things the world had to fear. But they were a handful of people, possible only less than one-percent of Atoms, and most countries understood this. Maybe with the right education, public awareness, and scientific experimentation, Atoms could become a part of society, or even be cured altogether.

So yeah, returning to Brighton had other perks as well.

Sean stretched his fingers around Mark's wrist and gave it a quick squeeze before he rose from the table, collecting both of their dishes and turning to the sink. Mark stood up. "I'll wash up," he said.

Sean shook his head. "I cooked. It's my mess. You go get ready."

Mark looked ready to argue back, but instead just nodded and gave Sean a thankful smile. He shrugged off to his room, not before opening the back door to let Chica run around the garden for a bit. Sean ran the hot tap and rinsed the plates, loading them into the dishwasher.

He had to tell Mark. Surely, at some point, he had to tell him.

\---

Wade had thrown a pillow at Sean for the third time this hour. Amy had gotten to the point where she rolled her eyes instead of getting annoyed. Bob was on his forth coffee. And Sean was all too excited for this party tomorrow.

"Are you sure he doesn't suspect anything?" Amy had asked again.

Sean shrugged. "He hasn't let on that he knows," he said truthfully. He didn't want to let her know his theory about Mark knowing, though. It would dishearten her.

Mark was blessed to still have Amy in his life. She was so lovely, and she did still care so deeply about him. But, people grow apart, and having a partner who was as famous as Mark had been too much for her. Their split had been full of communication and loving goodbye hugs, but the promise of their eternal friendship still shone strong. Mark had skyped Sean in tears early hours one morning when they first split, needing the company since the house was too quiet, and they both spent two hours singing Amy's praises and laughing about the times they had spent together. Sean was so thankful for Amy making Mark so happy.

Amy had given Sean a smile in return to his answer, and she gave a determined breath in. "Right," she said, "I want you two-" she pointed at Wade and Bob, who were both currently trying to see who could fit the most Pringles into their mouth "- to be here at nine A.M. tomorrow."

"A.M.?" Wade muffled past the chips.

Amy nodded. "And bring your car. Everything needs moving." She gestured to the piles of homemade decorations and banners which she had spent all week creating. In her room, as well, were several bin bags of balloons; she knew better than to let the boys blow up (read: mess around with and inevitably pop) the balloons, so she and two of her friends had blown them up earlier that day. She had gone above and beyond. Bob had baked a cake with the number '31' iced across the top. It was simple, but Mark would appreciate it.

Amy spoke to Wade and Bob about their plans for the morning, and Sean let himself sink back into the sofa. This room was... Excited. Excited, with a hint of nervousness. Sean didn't need to focus on each of his friends individually to figure out who was the one with the nerves. Oh Amy, everything'll be okay tomorrow. Sean's own excitement was fueled by the others', and for the rare few times since becoming an Atom, Sean felt happy being unintentionally influenced by other's emotions. When he had been in the ER a few nights ago, it had been so exhausting for him. There was so much pain, so much anger, so much that Sean for a migraine from it. But, he felt it more when Mark had left to go to the toilet. With Mark pressed against his side, the pain subsided. Sean didn't know what it was, but Mark soothed his brain and made him feel himself again. He didn't want to feel everyone's pain. But this, sat amongst his friends, all excited and happy for tomorrow, this was nice.

Amy finished her plans to the other men and turned to Sean. "And you're taking Mark out for lunch, still? Gives us time to set up."

Sean nodded. "Got a sushi place in town he wants to try out." He was actually excited for tomorrow's lunch as well. It might not be the highlight of the day, but just going out for lunch with Mark... It wasn't a date, he told himself that, it wasn't. Just a birthday meal among friends. He didn't need to convince himself too hard, he had other things to worry about beyond the crush he had been nursing for years now. Funny, how becoming an Atom had put his crush on hold for a bit. But it's nice to have a break, he guessed. It would make leaving America- leaving Mark easier. But for now, he would enjoy what he had, figure out the Atom stuff, and when he felt more confident in himself, maybe then he could reassess his feelings towards Mark. For all he know, his crush could have been hero-worship from his pre-YouTube days of being a fanboy. He hoped not.

Amy caught his trail of thoughts in his eyes. "You're thinking too much," she muttered under her breath. Sean heard, but just gave her a smile as he breathed in. His brain did need to shut up. Too much worrying and paranoia. Too much planning on what to say and when. Sean gazed out of the window where the sun shone brightly, settling on the rooftops of the houses across the street. The blue sky would be pink in an hour. Maybe his work tonight might clear his brain.


	3. Haze in My Lungs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't proof-read this chapter yet. Posted it on my break in work.
> 
> From now on, every chapter will alternate between day and night. Every odd-numbered chapter will be at night, and every even-numbered chapter will be day.

His eyes were closed as he slid down the wall. His arse hurt as it hit the floor, his fingers grazed from grating on the bricks. His head spun, his stomach lurched, and his brain was screaming death to him.

Through the wall were three friends, hazed in a thick fog, all bright eyed and dreamy. They had no idea Sean was there. Sean wasn't even trying to be silent. The door had slammed open as he entered, the sound echoing through the abandoned warehouse, and he had given up trying to hide his presence. But, he didn't have to worry; the room could have been on fire right now and these three friends wouldn't have had any clue.

It had been a bit nerve-wracking when Sean heard voices from the warehouse. He had just gotten out of his car, suited up and ready to patrol the city, and the smell had hit him before the sound.

But now, laying against the wall, he cursed the mutation. He had dealt with druggies before, feeling the tingle in his arms and the craving for potato chips, but people enjoying something that was legal in this state isn't something that concerned him. They kept to the law, didn't cause trouble. Yeah, they had a bit of an attitude to them, some of them mocking his suit, but it never felt violent, just entertained.

But this... This was intense. His eyes stung, his heart palpated, and his breathing was forced. Without the chemicals in his veins and only the feeling to go off of, his body felt poisoned. He felt like he was dying. He knew he wasn't, he knew once he was out of the warehouse and out of range of these people, the effects would wear off and he would feel better. But, opening his eyes to look towards the door, it felt a million miles away. His finger tips inched along the floor, reaching for it.

Beyond the intensity, he heard footsteps. He panicked, but as a hand hoisted him upwards, he let himself feel relief. Yes, his own emotions, that's what he needed. He latched onto that sensation, the feeling of being protected, of being helped. He felt so grateful.

They hobbled along, until the stranger let go, and Sean fell to his knees, his bare hands catching himself on the grass. He flopped onto his back, forcing his eyes to stare up at the stars. They were there, somewhere beyond the blackness staring back at him. He could see the texture at the edge of his mask, so he knew he wasn't blind. He just needed a minute.

The feeling started to seep out of him. It trickled down into the ground, pinning him where he lay, and soon the specks of light came into focus. He gave a cough as he sat up. No one was there.

Perhaps one of the druggies had helped him. He very much doubted it, but who else was there to help?

He stumbled back to his car. He felt guilty doing this, but he threw open the car door and got inside. He had to force his brain to shut up - what if people are in the city being murdered? He smacked his own head in rage. No, shut up. He needed a minute to recover.

Intense emotions and feelings are too much. He needs his space, his darkness to just focus and ground himself.

He suit was too constricting. It was loose fitting, but it was suffocating him at the moment. He tugged the mask off, throwing it into his backpack. Maybe that would help? He took deep breathes, his vision blurring. No, that wasn't enough. His shirt came off as well, and he would have happily stayed shirtless if not for the cold draught seeping through the window. He put his day shirt on, leaving his night tracksuit bottoms on.

He lent back, eyes closed, and he let the tears slip. God damn it. He had been doing this for two months straight with no break. He had faced all the anger, all the fear, all the emptiness and hollowness that haunted this city. But tonight was too much. Without even being on patrol for ten minutes, he had already gone too far. He had to go home. He had to sleep.

He let himself cry for a few minutes, letting the feeling of failure wash over him, rejoicing in the feeling of his own emotions yet again, and when he felt better, when his nose was running and his fingers were shaking, he started up the car. Before pulling away, he watched the twinkle of city lights burn before him, counting the souls that he was letting down because of this decision, questioning yet again whether he was making the right choice.

He went home.

\--

When he got back to Mark's, he checked his phone to find fourteen missed calls from his friend. Shit, Mark probably got up in the night and realised his car was missing. Mark's car wasn't parked out front either. He stepped into the house, quiet and still, besides Chica trotting behind Mark's bedroom door. He called Mark back.

He picked up after the second ring. "Sean?" Sean opened his mouth to speak, but Mark continued. "Where the fuck are you?" Sean's heart stopped. He sounded to distraught. He closed his eyes, again getting ready to speak, but then Mark spoke again, his voice less heated, layered with worry. "I'm sorry. Sean, please tell me where you are. You're scaring me."

"I'm fine," Sean finally got out, "I couldn't sleep so I went on a drive."

"Where are you?" Mark asked again.

"Home."

"Brighton?"

Sean couldn't help the chuckle that came out. "No, silly. I'm sat on your sofa." He wiggled his shoes off of his feet, leaning back to try and relax. He was still a bit shaken.

"Oh, thank God," Mark signed. In the background, Sean could hear the rattle of his own car engine. "I-- I..." he stuttered before taking a deep breaths in, "I was so worried you had done something stupid."

Sean's breathe hitched. Jesus Christ, this had gone on too long. He should never have let Mark assume. "Mark, I'm not suicidal." Mark was silent. Sean waited a pregnant moment before continuing. "I'm sorry, just the way you've been acting the past couple of days, I just get the feeling you assume that about me."

He heard Mark shuffle in his car seat. "I'm sorry, Sean," Mark finally said. He signed through the phone. "You're acting so different at the moment."

"I'm sorry I've been so out of it." And Sean was genuine when he said that. He wished there was an easier way of balancing his day life and his night life, but two months isn't enough time to be able to handle those sorts of changes.

Mark sniffed; Jesus, he was crying. Sean's heart lurched with guilt as he sat forward on the sofa. "I'm sorry," he whispered to Mark.

He heard Mark release the handbrake. "I'm on my way back now," Mark choked.

"Hang up. I don't want you crashing." Sean closed his eyes.

Mark hummed. "I'll be home in ten minutes.".

Sean grumbled a reply and hung up. He sighed. What was he going to say now? He couldn't tell Mark the truth yet. He felt sick. Not the same sickness like he felt back at the warehouse, but he felt like he was going to dry heave into the toilet for the next three hours. He twizzled himself around on the sofa and lied down, running through his head what he would say to Mark.

\--

He had dozed off by the time Mark arrived home. He hurried through the door, eyes wild, and when he spotted Sean waking up on the sofa, he bounded across the room to collapse onto his knees by his head. His hand found Sean's shoulder, and all at once his tense shoulders disappeared. He whispered, "You're okay." It was more a statement than a question.

Sean smiled up at him through tired eyes. "I'm okay."

Mark's hand left his shoulder, and Sean's chest sank - he was enjoying that - but a smile found his lips when the hand reappeared on his hair. Mark, drained with worry, anchored his other arm on the sofa to rest his head next to Sean's. He watched Sean's eyes, watched the emotions spiral and settle into content, and Sean knew he was watching. He was still worried about him. Sean raised his own hand and brought it to rest on the wrist by his ear. "I'm okay," he reaffirmed.

Mark's eyes started to flutter. "We should probably go to bed," he whispered. Sean smiled in agreement. Mark's eyebrows furrowed with thought, and he opened his eyes a second later to ask, "Is it alright if I stay with you tonight?" Sean gave a questioning look. Mark continued, "I know you said you didn't feel-" he paused "- self-destructive, but after spending a month thinking-"

Jesus, Sean thought, he had been worrying him for a month?

Mark inched his face closer and whispered, "I just want to make sure you're safe tonight."

And quite honestly, after the night Sean's had, with the intensity of the drugs before, he needed this as much as Mark did. He shifted upwards, just enough that Mark's hand didn't fall away from where it was looping a lock of his untied bun around his finger. He nodded. Mark gave his head a quick scratch before letting go, sitting up himself. "Come on, then," he gestured for Sean to sit up.

\--

Laying in bed next to Mark was different, to say the least. After years of this crush on him, he had dreamt of scenarios like this. Maybe Mark would spoon him in his sleep. Maybe Mark would whisper his name through jarring dreams. Maybe in the intimacy of the silence, Sean could find the courage to confess. But this was different. He lay next to Mark, both men drained but neither able to sleep, and he stared at the wall, his back irradiating Mark's body heat, and he felt so lost.

Mark was inches away from him, but he felt like the distance was miles. And it wasn't that there was anything wrong between them. They hadn't fallen out, they don't hate each other. The secret Sean had been carrying for two months had weighted on him to the point where it had caused a rift between him and the man he cared so deeply about.

Sean turned over carefully. He was so self-aware or every body movement while he lay next to Mark. Every turn could wake Mark, despite Mark still being awake on his phone next to him. Even his breathing had Sean on edge. What if it annoyed Mark? What if he snored in the night?

He faced Mark, the halo of glow from his phone screen outlining the floof of his hair. Sean snuggled his face further into the pillow.

Mark turned his ear. "Can't sleep?" Sean groaned in response. Mark hummed. "Neither can I."

"What you looking at?"

Mark locked his phone, throwing the room into darkness. "Just research for a video." He turned over, placing his phone on the bedside table and facing Sean. They couldn't see each other, the immediate blindness in the new-found darkness, but they could feel their breathes mingling together across the pillows. It made Sean feel comfortable, feel safe.

Mark sighed. "Are you sure you're okay?" Sean was silent. "I know I seem to ask you a million times a day, and I know you said you weren't suic-"

"I'm okay," Sean softly whispered. God, he had really fucked up. Affecting his friend's mind like this, having him so worried about his safety that even confirming he was alright wasn't enough to drown his worry.

Mark blindly reached his fingers out. They poked Sean under his eye at first, but after a little exploration, lightly dragging across his cheek, it found the back of Sean's head, curling in the long hair on his crown. "Talk to me," Mark whispered, "what's on your mind? What's keeping you up at night?"

Sean couldn't do it. It scared him to think he could lose Mark over something he can't control. Being an Atom, having this mutation, being able to feel and manipulate emotions. Mark wouldn't understand. What if he thought Sean was planting fake happiness into his head? What if he thought the reason they never argued was because Sean was forcibly calming him down? He couldn't do it.

But Mark needed answers. He needed something, anything to make him feel like things made sense. He needed to confess something. Anything. Not a lie - no, he couldn't do that again. Something truthful. Something real.

Sean closed his eyes, focusing on Mark's palm on the back of his head, and he let the words slip out. "I think I'm in love with you."


	4. Acid in My Throat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, Mark experiences a trigger in this chapter. It's based off of my own trigger. I don't do surprises because it means I am the centre of attention in a situation where everyone else around me knows more information than me and can use that against me, like being a victim of audience participation, or restaurant workers singing happy birthday to you. Mine is connected to my abuse earlier in my life, but I thought maybe Mark could also experience something similar, not for the same reasons, but that suddenly losing control and not being the all-knowing leader might knock him off course. So yeah, he gets triggered in this chapter, so, warning for that.

Sean had woken up early to make Mark's breakfast. He had carefully slid out from between his arms, wrapping himself in Mark's dressing gown and padded into the kitchen. He had hoped that the feast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast and beans would have been finished by the time his friend had woken up, but halfway through turning a slice of bacon, Mark had walked up behind him and had reached around him to flick the coffee machine on. "Mornin'," was all he mumbled.

Today was gonna be a weird day. The two of them had their lunch date in a few hours, Amy already having reminded Sean in three individuals text messages this morning, and Sean didn't think he was ready. He had managed to sleep last night, but he felt like his body had only managed to recover from the drug influence. He was still so emotionally drained from last night's conversation with Mark.

They ate breakfast is silence, both flicking through their phones as they ate. From the corner of his eyes, Sean watched Mark, keeping an eye on his body language, trying to detect any awkwardness. Mark seemed fine. Sleepy and quiet, but mostly fine.

Last night had been... Sean didn't know. Mark had been confused, but he didn't say much about Sean's confession. He expressed his concern that people in love don't usually let their feelings cause strife to their mental health, and he asked if the confession was going to help Sean feel better in the future, having gotten it off his chest. Sean had reluctantly agreed. Shit, he was lying again. He knew that mentally things weren't gonna change. His feelings for Mark weren't even at the forefront of his worry. But now, with Mark's ambiguous response, it had only brought it back into his consciousness. So now he had to not only figure out if Mark knew his secret, but also figure out whether Mark liked him back or not. Great.

Mark broke the silence as he turned his phone to show Sean a meme, something sweet and innocent about a very smart boi telling the world that Felix and Marzia deserve privacy during Marzia's pregnancy, and it made Sean smile; their online communities were so compassionate and considerate of their well-being.

At least Mark was interacting with Sean like nothing was wrong. Maybe, even if Mark didn't feel the same way, they could go on and continue being as close as they were before, that is, if Sean kept quiet about the whole Atom thing.

\--

Mark perked up during their drive to the sushi restaurant. He had beamed a smile over at Sean as his friend sang 'Happy Birthday' to him from the passenger seat, and to Sean, that was all he needed to feel confident that this dinner date was going to go well. It was a bright day, June in LA never disappointing, unlike the UK weather his home across the pond was probably currently experiencing.

Mark pulled into the car park of the shopping estate and turned the engine off. He didn't unbuckle himself just yet, so Sean paused. Mark gave him a quick smile. "Thanks for taking me out," he said softly.

Sean smiled back. "Sure thing. Anything for the birthday boy."

Mark looked down with a slight blush. "I'm glad it's only lunch. I was kind of worried Amy had something planned." Sean panicked, but he kept his face straight. "I don't really do surprises."

Shit.

Thinking quick, Sean unbuckled his belt and opened the car door. "Well, hopefully you don't find any surprise wasabi in your tuna roll," he joked. Mark gave a laugh as he followed him out of the car.

Walking across the car park, Sean took his phone out, sending a quick message to Amy: 'Hey, Mark doesn't do surprises. Can I give him the heads up?'

They entered the restaurant. They had come early, just before the lunchtime rush, so they found an empty booth at the back and settled in quickly. The conveyer belt of plates chugged along next to them, and Sean's eyes fixated on them, the colourful rolls of rice and veg piled beneath each clear dome.

Mark chuckled. "You ever been to a sushi restaurant before?"

"We have Yo-Sushi back home," Sean smiled.

Mark smirked. "I thought my house was home." Sean gave him a confused look. Mark continued, "You said last night on the phone that you were home on my sofa." He gave a shy smile. "Do you really see my home as a home to you?"

Well, that was quite an intimate question. There again, more intimate conversations were had between the two in the past 24 hours. Sean shrugged. "I've been here for so long. It just feels so comfortable now."

"It's kinda great having someone around," Mark confessed. "It spooks me in the night whenever Wade stays over and he goes the toilet, but with you, I hear you moving around the house and it calms me."

Sean's heart skipped. It felt like the stunted conversation from last night had teleported to this moment. Oh, here it goes.

Mark eyed the sushi. "Shall we?"

The two men both waited for their desired plates to pass by, taking them off the line and tucking in. God, Sean hadn't had sushi in a while, and, taking a bite of a teriyaki chicken roll, he asked himself why he hadn't. Sushi was just too good. Mark hummed in appreciation of his own rolls. He wiped his mouth on a napkin, then, much to Sean's surprise, continued the conversation. "If you feel so comfortable at my home, why don't you stay longer?"

"I've still got a month here," Sean reminded him. Mark laughed. "Anyway-" Sean took a bite of sushi, interrupting his own sentence, but continued after swallowing "- do you not think it's weird me staying with you after what I told you last night?" He bit the bullet. Why not, at this point? Mark knew he liked him, and Sean knew the anxiety and questions in his head was gonna weigh him down if he didn't ask.

Mark paused his chewing for a second, before placing his chopsticks down across his plate. "It doesn't change anything between us."

Sean was looking at his plate. He couldn't look up.

Mark continued, "We're still amazing friends." The friend-zone, Jesus Christ. "I don't feel uncomfortable knowing you like me."

Sean focused on his breathing. He had to stay calm and not panic. So this was it, ten hours late and he finally gets the rejection. He swallowed. "So, you don't like me?"

Mark close his eyes and waited a moment before replying. "You don't want to date me."

Sean scrunched his nose. "What do you mean?" He could hear the rage in his voice. He should calm down, watch his tone, but he couldn't stop. "How do you know what I want?"

Mark sighed, picking up his chopsticks and poked at his roll. "Never mind."

"No, not never mi-"

"Stop!" Mark glared up. He was angry too. Sean felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. He didn't want Mark to feel this way. He wanted Mark to feel calm, to feel the pool of water in his chest settle, to let his veins tingle as the droplets trickled dow--

Sean's eyes snapped open. No! No, what was he doing? Using his powers on Mark? This was too far. He couldn't. He had to get our of here.

As he rose from the booth, Mark called for him. "Sean!" The anger still tinted his tone.

Sean stormed across the restaurant, exiting the door and lent again the wall just outside. He was close enough to the window that Mark could see him and know he was safe. He closed his eyes and breathed. He just needed to get his head straight. Everything was all too much for him lately.

He loved Mark. Why would Mark think he didn't? Was it because Mark saw through his forced confession last night? Did Mark know that his crush was the least of his worries? Did Mark know?

Now, away from Mark, Sean could feel the emotions of the people around him. Close by, he felt a cluster of hatred. He looked up to see a group of protesters across the street, all dawning signs and chanting. He pushed away from the wall, crossing the car park to get closer. He could now hear the chants: "Atoms kill! Atoms kill!"

This again. The Pure Humans Society. What a bunch of arseholes.

Their signs, which they waved around, were splured with bigotry and hate. 'Protect your children!', 'The Devil created Atoms', 'Pure Humans shall rise'. They sickened him. At first, he thought it was the signs and chanting that made his throat fill with bile, but then he remembered his powers. Moving closer was a mistake.

There was a burning in his forehead. Not a fire, more like acid. Sean had to wipe a hand over his face to make sure he hadn't had acid thrown on him. He clutched his head, his knees weakening, his bowels clenched and contorted, his feet snapped and twisted, and he fell to his knees, tears burning down his cheeks, and his forehead hit the ground.

Too much. This was too much, again. Jesus, he needed to get out of here. His thoughts fell back to last night, when the drugs had pinned him to the wall. Even that felt like a sweet release in comparison to the crumbling torture this hatred was inflicting on him.

He felt a hand under his arms and the drag of the car park concrete beneath him. His stomach lurked; he threw up.

He blinked open, and the shine of metal came into view. His hand pressed against the car. Someone opened the door, and he got in. He breathed dropping as the other man walked around to the driver's side. He blinked at Mark. "Sean, what happened?" Sean stayed quiet. "Food poisoning?"

Another lie. Sean nodded. "I'm sorry for ruining your birthday meal," he muttered.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. Amy had replied to his earlier question: 'No, don't let him know.' Sean sighed. "At least your party should be fun."

Mark smiled at him. "Thanks." Sean could tell what he meant: 'thanks for telling me about it'. Sean smiled back.

He was starting to feel better now, like all the anger and sickness was draining out of him. He felt queezy, the acid in his throat still burning from when he threw up. Right now, he just wanted to cuddle up with Mark and watch some mindless TV.

"You wanna go back home?" Mark read his mind.

Sean nodded. "Just cuddle on the sofa?"

Mark paused where he was turning the key before reaching his hand over to pet the back of Sean's head. "Sure thing."

It wasn't weird between them. Mark didn't seem to mind Sean's crush. Maybe they would be alright after all.

\--

Sean had expected the two of them to just sit side-by-side on the sofa, space between them, but when Mark sat down, he opened his arm out to Sean and patted his own shoulder. "Come here," he whispered softly. Sean crawled into his embrace, his temple nestled into Mark's neck, his arms curled around himself. Mark's arm around his neck was comforting, and Sean smiled when his hand started playing with the sleeve of his shirt.

This was nice. This was exactly what he needed. He felt horrible knowing that Mark's birthday meal was ruined by his powers, and that the one getting all the attention right now was him and not Mark, but he selfishly sank further into Mark's side.

Mark sighed contently. "You feeling better?" he asked. Sean nodded. Mark turned his head to press his nose into Sean's hair fora few seconds, a sort of Eskimo kiss, before turning his attention back to the TV. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Food poisoning," Sean lied. He had to stop doing that.

Mark hummed. He waited a second before saying, "Those protesters were pretty intense." His finger ran back and forth on Sean's arm. "I'm surprised they're even allowed to do that."

"Freedom of speech," Sean mumbled solemnly, "They have a right to protest. Anyway, most of the country hates Atoms."

"Why, though?" Mark sat up more, knocking Sean slightly. "Why are people so cruel like that?"

This was it. Sean's eyes widened with hope. He kept staring at the TV, not taking in anything it was displaying, instead focusing on Mark. He tried to latch onto his emotions, just a peak, just to see if Mark truly felt this way, but he couldn't feel anything. He shrugged it off, since he was probably still drained from earlier.

Mark continued, "It's not like Atoms have any control over who they are. They're victims in all this. Honestly, they should be getting compensation from the government, since it is their fault. But instead they're getting beaten up in the street and arrested. It's fucking ridiculous."

Sean turned to face him, Mark's arm still around his shoulder. "You seem pretty passionate about this." He wanted to know why. Why did Mark care so much? Did he know Sean was an Atom?

Mark shrugged. "It's just like any other injustice, you know. Homophobia, sexism, racism." He sighed. "Atomphobia is not right."

Ah, Sean could see now. It was just Mark's strong sense of justice. So maybe he was safe after all.

There again, thinking about it, maybe he could tell Mark. Maybe Mark would be okay with it.... maybe if he has the ability to move objects, or control fire. But emotions? Those fragile, internal things that would be impossible to trace back to Sean's influence? Mark would never be able to trust him.

Sean dropped the subject, curling back up into his friends shoulder. "By the way," he whispered, "don't let Amy know I told you about the party."

Mark chuckled. "Sure thing. Anything to keep you safe."

And for a moment, Sean was sure he meant that, meant more than just Amy's wrath. He felt safe.

\--

They stayed in the car outside Amy's house for a few minutes when they arrived. Mark watched the windows while biting his lip. He really did not like surprises.

Sean reached over and placed his hand over Mark's on the steering wheel. "It's not too bad." His attempt at comfort was met with a quick breathe in from Mark. "It's not like she's hired a stripper."

"Would be kinda weird if my ex-girlfriend hired a stripper for me," Mark chuckled, but his lips still quivered, his eyes never leaving the windows.

"Well, you have been single for over a year now," Sean joked. "She probably is expecting you to find someone, soon. She's got that guy- what's his name? Jason?"

"Jackson." Mark closed his eyes. "Please tell me he's not invited."

"Quite honestly, I think Amy would rather hire you a stripper than being her new partner to her ex's birthday party." They both laughed at Sean's comment, sinking further into their car seats. They both knew they should probably get inside soon, but the banter they shared in times like this, if warmed Sean.

Sean unbuckled his belt, and Mark's shoulders rose. "You okay?" he asked.

Mark nodded. "Yeah." That was a lie.

"Why don't you like surprises?" Sean's hand found Mark's again, keeping it firmly over his. Mark took a breathe in before opening the spaces between his fingers, letting Sean's fall between them. "Not sure. Just a mental trigger, I suppose."

And it was messed up and cruel that the very first thing Sean thought of right then was that he could control Mark's emotions so he would react bad to being in surprising situations like this. Mark could experience things that would usually trigger him without having to worry about the negative side effects. He could always be happy.

But that was the point. It was wrong for Sean to do that to Mark. Calming down criminals and brightening up the nights for the homeless was one thing: faceless and forgetable, they wouldn't remember or even know who Sean McLoughlin was. But Mark? Even using his powers once on him was enough for Sean to eternally hate himself. Mark would never trust him.

So, if he was gonna help him through his triggers, it would have to be the good old fashioned way: positive mental attitude, hugs and support.

Sean squeezed Mark's fingers, and finally Mark turned his face to look at Sean. "I'll be with you," he whispered, and Mark gave a grateful smile.

"Thank you," he whispered.

They got out of the car, and as they knocked on the door, Mark reached out to grab Sean's hand again. They both could easily predict what was about to happen, and it seemed to get to Mark strongly. The door pulled open, and inside the hallway was Amy, Wade and Bob, all wearing party hats and glow-in-the-dark bracelets (it was five P.M.) and they all screamed, "Surprise!"

Mark's hand death-gripped Sean's. His smile was forced and his eyes were panicked. "Wow, thanks guys!"

Sean's turn to look after his friend. What a weird day.


	5. Buzz in My Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: End of this chapter is sad. Dog lovers might wanna skip this one.

Somewhere along the night, Bob had pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and Mark had groaned at the irony that the birthday boy would be the only one sober. Wade had suggested that Mark calls all the shots, and he gets to pick the games and be the judge on all of them. Mark's word was final.

So after three rounds of Ring of Fire, several-hundred 'Never Have I Ever' questions, and the quickest game of Stip Poker Sean had ever seen (he was the only one who knew how to play Poker) they had finally landed on a classic game of Truth or Dare. Needless to say, though, three of the boys and the only girl were quite plastered.

Sean's eyes flickered. He really should not be this drunk. He usually handles his liquor so well. But he feels it, every time he doesn't have Mark's solid body pressed up against his side, every time he leaves for the toilet or for snacks, his powers are latching onto the drunkenness of the others.

Mark had gone to the front door to collect the pizza - there was no way any of the other could have even walked to the door - so Sean's head was warping with a heavy buzz.

The pizza arrived before him, and more importantly Mark was back against him, letting Sean shift his weight into his chest once more. Amy had rolled her eyes with a snorting laugh. She probably knew about Sean's crush. They probably all did. In the haze of his memory, Sean thinks he might have told Mark he loves him a million times that night, but that was right after he declared he was ordering pizza, so maybe he could get away with it being a drunken stupor.

It was Mark's turn to pick someone for Truth or Dare, since he had just completed the dare to 'answer the door'. "Wade," he said, giving an evil grin across to his friend, who was so rigorous devouring a slice of pizza that he may as well have been giving it oral, "truth or dare."

"Dare," Wade shouting around the pizza slice.

Mark thought for a moment before his eyes lit up with an idea. "I dare you to go next door and ask for a cup of sugar?"

Everyone laughed. Wade widened his eyes, halfway through a laugh himself, before checking his phone. "It's two A.M.," he shouted. Sean checked his own phone. Damn, it was two A.M.. He was hoping that the party would have wrapped up by now and he could get in a few hours of patrolling. There again, checking his own drunkenness, it was probably not a good idea. God damn it, that's two nights in a row he wasn't out there saving people.

Wade stood up from where he was sat on the floor and stumbled to the door. Everyone followed him, except Sean. He stayed put, Mark shifting under him to watch his dare come to life. He pauses as Sean's head moved from his shoulder back onto the sofa. "You good?" he whispered. Sean nodded. "Even after the food poisoning before?" Sean closed his eyes. He had forgotten about that. Most people don't drink huge amounts of alcohol after throwing up from food poisoning. Mark could read him like a fucking book.

Sean opened his eyes again and gave Mark a small smile. "I'm fine." Mark waited a moment, keeping his eyes on his friend, before he slid the rest of the way out from under him to follow the others.

Alone, Sean closed his eyes again and slid backwards, lying on his back. He could slip out now. He could run back to Mark's and grab his suit. He could patrol for an hour. Or maybe he could tell Mark that he actually did feel sick from the food poisoning still, and once he was in bed he could sneak out.

No, no to all of that. Mark would get worried and leave his party early if anything was wrong with Sean. This was Mark's night, and he seemed to be having a great time, despite being the only sober one of the group. After ruining his morning, Sean didn't want to ruin his night either.

He sighed as everyone came stumbling back through the door, laughing and pushing Wade, who, thanks for Amy's lovely night-owl neighbours, was carrying a plastic cup of sugar. Wade placed the cup on the floor in front of him and eyed everyone as they sat back down. "Amy," he shouted, "truth or dare?"

Amy laughed. "Dare."

"Why is everyone picking dares?" Bob asked.

"We ain't pussies," Mark joked, nudging Sean's shoulder so he can slide back under him. Sean thought about sitting up to lean on his shoulder again, but instead he stayed laying down, placing his head into Mark's lap. Mark combed a hand through his hair comfortingly. Mark continued, "Truths are for the weak." And didn't Sean feel that deep in his soul.

Wade's face immediately lit up with an idea. "Amy, I dare you to eat all the sugar in this cup."

Amy threw her face into her hands. "No!" she cried. Everyone laughed. Granted, it wasn't a lot of sugar, about half a cup, but even Sean, peaking out from beyond Mark's legs, cringed at the idea. His own mouth tanged at the thought.

Amy gathered the cup in her hands, eyeing it with a sour face. "Do I have to?" she whined.

"A dare's a dare," Bob said, although he seemed sympathetic.

Amy took a breathe in before bringing the cup to her face, letting a mouthful of the crystals fall into her mouth. She closed her lips and watched the group, letting the sugar dissolve and slosh around her mouth before swallowing. "That wasn't so bad." She looked at the remaining sugar in the cup. "Oh," she muttered.

Sean spoke up. He felt sorry for Amy. "Does it have to be the whole cup, Wade?"

Wade laughed. "Yeah, or it doesn't count."

Mark's hand in Sean's hair gripped his scalp slightly as he spoke, "Come on, Wade." Sean snuggled his face into Mark's thigh, a way of saying thanks for agreeing with him.

Wade gave up, letting Amy off the hook. Birthday boy's words were final, after all. She gave Sean a smile as thanks, but then her smile turned into a smirk. "Sean-" Sean's eyes widened, oh God "- truth or dare?"

"No more truths," Mark shouted above him, "truths are for pussies."

"Can you stop saying that," Amy warned him. "Some of us proudly own pussies."

Bob covered his ears. "Didn't need to hear that." But everyone laughed none-the-less.

Sean smiled. "Dare, then." He was kinda glad. Up until this point, he had only chosen dares. He didn't want to risk having to tell the truth, any truth.

Amy cocked her head at him, pretending to think, but Sean knew she had been burning to have this power over Sean the whole night. "Sean," she smirked, "I dare you to kiss Mark." There it was. She knew about the crush.

Sean froze, and above him he felt Mark do the same. Mark was the first to react. "Only Sean was dared. I wasn't dared. It doesn't count."

"Don't swindle your way out of this one, Mark," Amy said, pointing a finger at him, the smile still plastering her face. "Anyway, consider this your dare for the next round."

"Sean gets to pick the next victim," Mark rebuttled.

"Dare him to kiss you, Sean," Amy said, leaning forward in her chair to smack at Sean's legs to get his attention.

"No," Mark defended, "you can't double dare him." It really did seem that Mark didn't want to kiss Sean.

Sean sat up, mostly because being on top of Mark while this debate was happening wasn't really helping his case. Amy's eyes lit up. "See," she said, pointing at Sean as he moved, "he's ready to kiss you."

"Amy," Mark sighed, and the tone of his voice really reflected how sober he was.

Feeling too caught up in the middle, Sean lent forward, gripping his head. It felt like how it did when his powers were overstimulating, but he didn't feel like that was the issue. He guessed it was stress. Stress and too much alcohol.

Wade finally spoke up, "Right, choose a different dare, Amy. Sean doesn't look too well."

Amy's face dropped as she leaned forward again to rub at Sean's knee. "You okay?" Sean shook his head. He felt Mark's hand on his shoulder, and he resisted the urge to lean into his touch. Amy gave his knee a squeeze. "Right, I dare you to go home and rest."

Sean coughed. "Mark's driving." He was ruining Mark's night. Great.

Mark shifted closer. "I'm getting tired." Whether it was the truth or a lie, Sean appreciated Mark's dedication to his happiness. Jesus, why was Mark always so giving and Sean was so taking. Sean's head swam deeper in doubt.

Mark stood up, hoisting an arm under Sean's to help him to his feet. They said their goodbyes, Mark wrapping Amy tightly into his arms- the love they still shared, despite platonic, was still strong, and Amy deserved all the hugs for how awesome this party was- and the two men climbed into Mark's car. Once they were on the road, Sean watching the headlights glowing on Mark's face every two seconds, Mark reached over the controls to squeeze Sean's thigh. "Thank you for today."

Sean huffed. "This morning was a disaster."

Mark hummed. "I enjoyed watching TV with you."

"We do that every day."

"Not while cuddling, we don't."

Sean didn't reply straight away. What was Mark trying to say? It hurt Sean's head. "You like cuddling?"

Mark shrugged while making a turn on the road. "I think it would be nice if we did it again." And, wow, Sean didn't expect that. Mark continued, "I mean, that's what you've been doing to me all night."

Sean cringed. He was a clingy drunk. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Mark took his hand off the wheel again and placed it back on Sean's thigh, turning his head to face Sean. "I feel safe with you."

Sean felt his heart stop, his breathe shuddered. What was this? Why was Mark doing this? Why was--

Sean flew forward, his forehead smashing into the air bag. His seatbelt dug into his stomach and he screamed in pain. The car skidded for a second and then screeched to a halt. Sean kept his eyes closed, breathing in slowly, willing his heart to slow down. Creaking his spine, he sat up, facing where Mark was buried in his own air bag. He reached out, heavily patting his shoulder. "Mark?"

Mark let out a yelp and sat back. The fear in his eyes were electric, his hands, still gripping the wheel beneath the bag, were making his arms shake like crazy.

Sean looked around. What had happened? "Mark?" he asked again.

Mark let out a breath. "I hit a dog."

"What?"

Mark sniffed. He was starting to cry. "I wasn't looking. It was in the road."

"Jesus." Sean blindly reached to unbuckle his belt, ignoring the ache in his neck, and pulled the car door open. The smell of burnt rubber hit him first, the force Mark had used to slam on the breaks had probably left marks on the road. He stumbled as his feet hit the ground. He was still tipsy. He slowly walked to the back of the car, hearing Mark's door opening, and he peered around the back headlights and looked down the road. There was a dark mass.

His heart sank. They had hit something. Mark joined him. "Shit," he whispered to Sean, choking through tears. He was probably thinking of Chica. Thinking about how he would feel if he got a knock on the door at three A.M. only to be told his dog was dead.

Sean didn't want to see those tears. He didn't want Mark to be upset. He felt the pool of water in his own stomach, looking up to him in question as if to ask permission to activate. It had been so long since he used it. His powers. Been days since he made someone feel calm. Could he?

He brushed it aside. Not Mark. Never Mark. Instead, he reached out and held Mark's hand. Hand squeezed it immediately. They slowly made their way towards the creature. Sean watched it's chest; it wasn't breathing.

Mark stopped. His face broke. He let go of Sean's hand to cover his face and his heart. "Oh God," he spluttered past tears. "Fuck."

Sean wanted to wrap him up, to hold him and made the pain go away. It was more genuine and visible emotional manipulation than his powers, and it felt right to do that. But, first, he wanted to make sure the animal was truly dead. It could be in pain right now. They could still save it.

Sean turned and finished his walk to the animal. It was a dog. Shit. It wasn't wearing a collar, and Sean hoped and prayed it was a stray. Not good for a dog to die either way, but if it was a stray, at least there wasn't a family mourning the loss of their faithful friend. Up close, however, Sean could see that its chest was, in fact, moving. Tiny, shallow breathes, in and out, gasping onto life. It was whimpering lowly, not understanding what is happening, or what his giant creature above it was going to do to it.

Sean knelt down next to it. It was bleeding, and he wouldn't be surprised if it's spine was broken. It was going to die. Even if they took it to a vets, if by some miracle there was one open this early in the morning, the chances of the creature being put down was incredibly high. Sean knew it. His brain felt sick with the knowledge, but he knew it was true.

Maybe Sean could make it's last moments peaceful. Make the pain go away. He didn't pet it, not wanting to spook it. Instead, he placed his hands on his knees, bowed his head, and he let the pool of water in his chest start to flow. It started as a circle, so perfect and round, but the water started to trickle. It was slow and soft, one of the lines of water spiraling down into his stomach. It was so small, so much smaller than he had ever experienced before. He felt the tips of his fingers curl inward, his arms folding like an air mattress, his legs shrinking upwards into his chest to be met by the water, immediately dissolving into it. This dog, this small creature, it filled Sean's chest cavity and breathed slowly.

The whimpering had stopped. Sean opened one eye to look down at the dog, who was looking back up at him. The fear was gone, replaced with a look of thankfulness. It was going to die in peace.

Footsteps caused Sean to look up. Mark was walking towards him. He was huddled in in himself, forcing himself to breathe at a regular rate. Sean breathed in quickly, worried about him seeing the creature.

The dog let out a yelp. Shit, Sean had lost concentration. The dog was yelping and whimpering again, a strangled pain deep in it's throat that hit Sean straight in his chest. Sean focused on the pool of water again. He felt the edges of it, felt it trickling, but the outline no longer felt small. It felt human. It felt like Sean.

No! He had to get back to the dog? Why wasn't this working? Was it because he was scared? Was it because it wasn't human? Sean was screaming in his head, demanding his powers work, but the pool of water was bubbling, a red heat seeping in from beneath, and the fluid became more solid as lava overcame it.

Sean hit his fists into the ground and screamed. He let the lava flow out of his mouth, let the smoke stream from his eyes, until he felt the wetness of his tears soak into his cheeks, until he felt the wetness of the spout of rain from before seep into his palms, and the water started to return. It felt hopeless. It felt powerless. He tried to remind himself that it only takes a centimetre of water to drown a human, that even the smallest quantity of water is enough for him to control calmness, but he couldn't convince himself.

The dog was in agony, and as he choked out a final, wretched breathe, Sean felt Mark fall to his knees next to him. Sean had failed.

They both stayed there, the silence of the night haunting as they both stared at the body, as if their hope alone would bring it back. But nothing happened.

Sean closed his eyes. He had seen so many humans close to death in these past months, but this was the first death he had witnessed, and it affected his powers. The fear of his own death had never effected them before? Guns pointed at his head, standing at the edge of a ledge, bleeding from his side. None of them had ever made his powers stop working. But this?

Something wasn't right. Something was happening, and Sean couldn't quite place a finger on it.

Eventually, Mark placed a hand on Sean's shoulder. "We need to go," he whispered, his voice wretched from crying.

Sean reached out to place his own hand on Mark's shoulder, the two men supporting each other. "What are we going to do?"

"We gotta call the police." Mark wiped his eyes with his spare hand. "We should sit in the car."

Sean nodded. Looking at the body was making his heart hurt more and more. Space would help. He needed space to think, to feel again. He helped Mark up to his feet, and, with their arms still around each other, they made their way back to the car.

Sean knows that Mark's birthday had been the worst. Everything had been shit all day. But, he thought to himself as they both sat down in the car, pushing the air bags out of the way, it could have been much worst. He and Mark were safe, and Sean thanked Mark's allergy to alcohol to high heavens as they dialled 911. Things could have been much worse.


	6. Safety in My Palm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the dog! :( I hope this chapter makes up for it!

They both stayed in bed the next morning. The police had taken an hour to show up last night, apparently there was an incident in the city centre they had to deal with first - Sean cursed himself for not patrolling last night - and they only took half an hour to deal with the dead dog. Mark was truthful from the very start that Sean was intoxicated but he hasn't touched a single drop off alcohol, and one breathalyser each later the officers believed them. It was a stray, thank God, and everything wrapped up quickly and they were sent home, Mark driving slower than needed until they crawled into his driveway.

Mark had gripped the hem of Sean's shirt as they crossed the living room, and Sean knew he couldn't leave him alone that night.

So here they were, both awake, starting at Mark's ceiling, neither of them really putting forth much effort to move from their spots next to each other. It was half twelve already, Sean's hangover reduced to a numbing ache behind his eyelids. They had lay in silence together for a few hours now, just listening to each other breathing, only their forearms brushing against each other every twenty minutes or so.

Sean's back was aching, the whiplash from last night still causing him grief, so he turned himself onto his side to face Mark. Mark had let out a breath, closing his eyes before also turning over to face Sean. Sean watched his face as his friend watched him back, noticing how Mark's eyes seemed heavy and hollow. He was probably thinking about last night. Chica had been curled up at their feet all night, Mark needing his own dog and her loud breathing to reconfirm to him that she was alright.

After ten minutes of watching Mark's face, Sean finally broke the hours of silence. "Should we record something today?" he whispered.

Mark closed his eyes. "What were you thinking?"

Sean thought for a second. "Minecraft?"

Mark couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "I am not playing fucking Minecraft?"

Sean pouted. "Really? Not even if I bought it for you?"

Mark smiled at him, despite his eyes still weighing heavy in guilt. "Don't buy me Minecraft."

"What do you think I got you for your birthday?"

Mark reached his hand from under the duvet to push on Sean's shoulder. "The meal was your present."

Sean smiled at his own joke in his head. "A-ha, that's what you thought. For, you see, I fooled you. Your real birthday present has been on your desktop this whole time, ready to be played." Sean gave a small, dramatic evil laugh, which made Mark shake beside him with his own joy.

"Shut up."

"But no, seriously-" Sean let the laughter drop as he scooted closer to Mark "- I didn't give you a decent present yesterday."

"Lunch."

"That was a failure." Sean reached out to hold Mark's hand between them. "Let me actually give you something decent."

"Like Minecraft?"

"I would get you Minecraft if you wanted," Sean chuckled. "But no, you deserve so much more."

Mark looked down at Sean's chest, the hollowness returning to his eyes. "I don't deserve anything."

"Yes you do."

"I killed a dog!" Chica raised her head from the end of the bed. Mark ignored her. "I wasn't looking where I was going. The world trusted me behind that wheel and I failed it." Mark's eyes were starting to glisten again. "I don't deserve anything nice."

Sean let go of his hand to place it on his cheek. "Hey, calm down." He had to watch himself to make sure he wasn't using his power. "You're fine. Last night was mistake. It was bad and traumatic for the both of us, but it doesn't make you a bad person."

Mark closed his eyes, breathing deeply to wash away the tears. "I fucked up."

Sean stroked his thumb under Mark's eye. "We are both safe." Mark's eyes shot open at this. Sean continued, "We both could have been severely hurt, or died."

Mark choked. "I could have killed you."

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant." Mark was huddling in on himself, and Sean shifted closer so that Mark's face was pressed into his chest. "Shush," he whispered, rubbing Mark's back. He could feel Mark's tears soaking into his shirt. "We're both okay. We're both safe."

They lay there, wrapped in each other as Mark cried. Sean had to hold back his own tears, but he stayed strong for Mark. Chica had moved further up the bed, laying behind Mark, sandwiching him between two of his favourite people, love wrapping him in comfort from both sides. Mark calmed down after a while, but he never left Sean's arms. He stayed with his nose pressed in Sean's shirt, and Sean could feel him start to relax again.

The doorbell had disturbed them. It was only the postman, but Sean's heart hurt when Mark untangled them so he could stumble to the front door to get his mail. He really didn't want to have to drive to the sorting warehouse because he missed the postman.

Sean, wrapped in Mark's dressing gown again, walked into the living room to see Mark unwrapping his parcel. Mark looked up to him and gave him a small smile. "New PS4 game," he explained.

"We should record us playing that," Sean suggested as he walked to the kitchen to flip the kettle on.

"It's a story game," Mark explained, "I don't think you have enough time in the States to finish the game with me."

Sean paused at that, the mug he was bringing down from the top cupboard paused in mid-air. "I still have a month."

Mark appeared by the kitchen door. "Actually, twenty-three days."

"Twenty-three? Already?" Sean lent against the counter. "I had seventy days here the other day."

"Yeah, two months ago." Mark reached past him to get his own mug. "You're running out of time. You're going to leave me soon."

And Sean has never so badly in his life wanted to drop everything and do something spontaneous. He had always been a worrier, a planner, someone who always had a rough idea what he wanted to do, but now he looked at this man in front of him, his empty eyes and sunked heart, and all he wanted to do was wrap him in his arms and give the middle finger to Brighton.

Instead, he made two cups of British tea. "I can't stay, forever." He was trying to convince himself more than Mark. He had to remind himself, despite not patrolling the past few nights, he still was a vigilante. He still fought crime. The government still wanted him imprisoned. He had to leave.

He decided to change the topic back to YouTube. "We should still do the story game. Something for you to edit while I'm gone so you don't forget me."

Mark reached for his finished mug of tea, leaning into Sean's space, and stayed there, sipping his tea close to Sean's face. "As if I could forget you."

Sean urged himself not to blush. This man would be the death of him.

\--

In the end, they decide against playing the story game. Mark was right, it would be weird for Mark to still be uploading videos with Sean after all their subscribers knew Sean was back in the UK. And anyway, they needed content for both of their channels. They settled on making a simple vlog each. Although playing a game would have been a great distraction from last night's events, the though of having to edit them was too much, even with Robin helping Sean, and Mark didn't want to spend his evening working.

Mark wanted a fun vlog reviewing food. Since Sean had only been to America a few times, he hadn't experienced all the treats America had to offer, so Mark decided that for his channel they would have an American food review. "I'll make it funny in editing," he promised, and yeah, Sean had seen Mark's own food reviews on his channel, the editing was always the funniest bit. Maybe it would make Mark laugh more than editing a three-hour gameplay would.

Sean wanted a simple vlog that wasn't full of laughs, but instead full of friendship. He just wanted to sit down and talk with Mark, answering fan questions. It was simple, and hopefully wouldn't be too much effort for Robin to edit, since he was still trying to sieve through Sean's Minecraft playthrough from a few days ago (he wasn't obsessed, he swears! Yes, it had been a year, but Felix was still playing over on his channel; how had Sven not died yet was beyond Sean.)

They got dressed and headed to the shops to collect the food for Mark's video. Sean had picked up his keys for his rental and had motioned for Mark to get into his car before Mark even had a chance to consider getting behind the wheel again. "You okay to drive?" Mark had asked. Sean nodded. He probably wasn't, not legally at least, but he felt like enough of the alcohol had left his system for him to drive them safely to and from Wal-Mart. It was either him or the mentally shook driver that had just buckled himself in his passenger seat.

They hardly spoke on the drive there, only talking once they were safely parked in the car park. Mark had gotten out and rounded the car to walk close to Sean. "So, I was thinking maybe Twinkies and Pop-Tarts."

Sean shrugged. "We have those in the UK."

"What?"

"Yeah, globalisation, and all that."

Mark narrowed his eyes at Sean. "Big words for such a small boy."

"Hey, I'm the same height as you." Sean turned to face him, walking backwards, puffing his chest up and mocking Mark's muscles. "Hey, look at me, I'm Markiplier and my biceps are almost as big as my ego."

Mark laughed and shoved his shoulder. "Hey, not true," he joked, "my biceps are way bigger than my ego."

Sean smirked. "And still miles bigger than your cock."

Mark doubled over in a laugh, and Sean had to slam his hand over his own mouth to stop himself joining Mark huddled over as a mother with her child gave them a stare as they walked past. Sean bet she had just complained the management inside about something stupid, bloody Karens.

Mark stood up straight, smile still plastering his face - God, Sean was happy to see that smile again - and he reach to wrap an arm around Sean's shoulder, turning him back to face the right direction as they continued to the store doors.

Inside, they scanned each isle for things Mark thought were uniquely American, surprised by how many of his childhood treats were targets of American greed and we're internationally marketed to other countries. In the end, they found a decent pile of things for Sean to try, and they paid and made their way back to the car.

Sean eyed the food in the bag. "Goldfish?"

Mark groaned in pleasure. "Yeah, Goldfish. They're amazing!"

"Hot dogs?"

"They're weiners," Mark corrected.

Sean took the jar out of the bag. "Jesus, they're big."

Mark laughed, "Not as big as-"

Sean threw the bag at him and started the car. "You're weiner isn't as big as Wal-Mart's."

Mark slid back in his seat. "Why are you obsessed with my dick?" Sean didn't answer. Mark chuckled. "You're just dying for a peak, aren't you."

"Mark," Sean warned. Mark shut up after that.

\--

Back at the house, they set up the camera pointing at Mark's dining room table. Chica sniffed in the bag, Mark warning her to stay away from his weiners (Sean doubled over laughing in the kitchen at that.) The two men sat down, the items still in the bag, and Mark stared at the off camera. "Is it weird that I kinda miss Amy being my cameraman?"

"Was she good at it?" Sean asked.

Mark glared at the camera. "No, but I'm lazy and I can't connect Alexa to my camera, and I hate doing it myself."

Sean laughed, standing up from his chair to turn the camera on. "What would you ever do with me here?" he joked.

"I don't know, guess we'll find out soon enough," Mark reminded him, and suddenly the energy in Sean had gone again. Stop it, stop reminding him.

He sat back down, and Mark did his intro. The filming went great, Mark being awkward and weird every minute or so, Sean knowing he was going to edit a close-up shot or a silly sound effect on top of his over-dramatic actions. It was a good laugh, and Sean got to try some amazing things. After Sean had turned off the camera - Mark was still being lazy and cute - they both sat and finished off the food, claiming that since they missed lunch, they got a free pass on eating crackers and hot dogs and marshmallow puffs instead of a balanced plate of veggies.

While they ate, Sean sent out a tweet to his followers: '@markiplier and I will be answering your questions. Ask us here!' It was a simple tweet, but he hoped the lack of jokes might prompt some more serious questions. He wanted topics he could sink his teeth into, and he knew that Mark loved a good debate, that his sense of justice and open-mindedness meant that he could talk for hours about certain topics and could make people, including Sean himself, see things in a new light. He loved watching the spark of fire in Mark's eyes as he debated topics.

\--

They finished eating, and Mark decided they should take Chica on a walk before they filmed the second video, to give Sean's subscribers enough time to reply. They threw their shoes on, and Mark gave Sean Chica's lead. They had both taken Chica out on a walk many times over the past few months, and by this point it felt like second nature for Sean to walk the thirty-minute route around the neighborhood. Rarely Mark would join him - they both loved Chica, but walking her was a chore they rock-paper-scissored for on bad days - so having the company was something they both appreciated.

They walked out of the neighborhood and into the beach, Chica behaving as she trotted next to them, only occasionally tugging at the lead when she would see another dog she wanted to play with. They all stayed on the footpath, not having the right footwear to stroll along the sand, but the sun on Sean's skin and the ocean breeze on his hair felt so refreshing. Daytime definitely painted a different view of this city than nighttime.

As they walked, their shoulders bumped. Sean wasn't sure what it was over the past few days, but Mark had been getting closer. He always seemed to be existing in his space, whether it was drunk Sean leaning in him for support, or finger-length apart while making breakfast in the morning. Right now, though, their hands brushed against each other every now and then, completely on accident, but it always made Sean smile to himself.

They were talking about seagulls.

"They're liers," Sean shouted, waving his arms, "bloody liers."

"Why?" Mark watched as a flock of them bobbed in the distant waves.

"Cause," Sean spluttered, "back home they're never by the sea! They're everywhere! Hardly seagulls if they're not by the sea."

"You live in Brighton," Mark reminded him.

"I know that! But you go anywhere - middle of a city, a potato field in the Midlands, bloody Asda car park - they're there. They're always there. No sea, just gulls." Sean turned to the birds in question. "Liers!"

Mark laughed as he shoved his shoulder, sending an apologetic look to the jogging who had no clue what she had just ran past. "They're in the sea now. Those ones are fine."

Sean smiled. "Bloody conspiracy, I tell you."

Mark's hand ran down Sean's shoulder as he spoke. "The birds work for the Illuminati." His hand found Sean's. "Hitchcock was right."

And it was such a weird mix for Sean. For their conversation to be so wild and obscure, but for this action to hold so much meaning and consequence. It would have made more sense if they had been talking about love, or friendship, or fucking hand massages. But no, they were talking about seagulls.

Sean let his fingers sit around Mark's pinkie, feeling Mark squeeze his hand as his thumb wrapped around Sean's. This could have been platonic, they were pancaking instead of waffling (Sean had learnt that when VidCon had taught him and the other creators how to physically interact with their younger fans. Hand holding was closed-palm only, like a flat pancake. The funny imagery still make Sean laugh now.)

Their conversation continued, and their hands stayed like this. It felt nice, just walking side-by-side with Mark, Chica paying them no attention or judgement. They made it back to the house, Mark having to unwrap their hands so he could unlock the door. They let themselves in, letting Chica run loose, and they both flopped onto the sofa. Neither of them said anything about the hand holding.

\--

They set the camera up pointing at Mark's sofa for Sean's video. They hadn't read through the tweets yet, hoping the spontaneity of reading them would spark more in-depth arguments, if there were any heavy topics to deal with. Quite honestly, Sean still expected the usual jokes and banter. They let Chica sit off-camera by their feet.

Returning the favour from before, Mark turned on the camera and let Sean do his intro. They sifted through the first few questions they came across, none of them really too worthy to be in a video, then settled on a good one. "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

"Does it have to be somewhere new?" Mark asked. "Cause I'd love to go back to Korea at some point." Mark had gone on his soul-searching trip to South Korea last year to help him learn conversational Korean, and he had Skyped Sean every few days to show him what he had learnt. It had been adorable.

Sean smiled. "I'd love to go back to Australia. Maybe spend longer than a week there."

Mark laughed. "They have Christmas in summer. Could you imagine that?"

"Frosty the Sand Castle," Sean joked back, and the two men let themselves fall back in their seats, enjoying themselves.

The questions continued.

"What do you two do to help your mental health?"

"Sean, would you ever get a dog?"

"How long are you staying in America, Sean?"

"Are you two dating?" (They both laughed and Mark reminded them of a certain amalgamation that was on Warfstash's list of victims.)

"Are you both going to PAX East this year?"

"Bring back the green hair!" (Sean had shouted, "That's not a question! Invalid tweet!" and that was that.)

After a while, a question caught both of their attention. Apart from a handful about mental health and one about self-acceptance, not too many of the questions had been heavy. But this one was the first one that sparked the passion in Mark. "What do you guys think about Atoms?"

Mark straightened his back. "You mean the tiny things we're all made of, or the innocent victims that the government is yet to compensate?"

Damn, Sean's eye lit up at that burn. Mark really did not agree with the government's actions over the past two months.

Sean spoke up, trying his best to sound like a genuine answer he would give without the bias of being an Atom himself. "They're humans, like all of us, and like anyone who is human, whether they are straight, gay, bi, black, white, Asian, old, young- anything! They deserve the safety and security as much as anyone else."

Mark hummed in agreement. "It is horrific that the government could fuck up so badly and cause so many people's lives to change, but with human compassion and unity, we can overcome this tragedy and evolve as humans."

And Sean had to stop himself adding, "Just like the Atom's have evolved." It was a poor-tasting joke from someone who was trying to appear like a Non-Atom.

Sean thought this might be the end of that question, and he looked back down at his phone to continue searching, but Mark continued. "And if anyone watching this has been affected by the Bushpillar Desert Disaster, then please know you are not alone. If you or your loved ones have changed due to the disaster, then please don't ever feel like you are a monster. You are incredible, and unique, and you can go on to do so many amazing things. Don't let the stupid government make you believe you are a criminal, and don't let that bloody terror group Pure Humans Society make you think you are evil. You are not. You are loved, and you are special."

And Sean had to close his eyes to stop his chest from exploding. He needed to say something. He needed to say something now. Now was the right time. Now was perfect. Mark would support him. Mark would trust him. Fuck all his anxiety, he needed to do this, he needed to reach out to Mark and let him know.

He reached out. Not metaphorically, he literally reached out. His hand found Mark's shoulder, and he pulled him forward. He stopped thinking, he just let himself lean forward, and his lips found Mark's. Everything was so pent up in his chest, he needed this, not as much as he needed to tell the truth, but this certainly made for a decent substitute. He kept leaning, Mark fell backwards in his place on the sofa, and Sean moved above him, parting his lips to capture Mark's bottom lip between his. Sean didn't care if Mark was moving back or not. He needed this. He needed-

Mark pushed him lightly. He let their lips part, but only by a fraction. His eyes were closed, breathe shuddering, and he bit his lip. Sean had fucked up. The pain in his chest was too much. He felt the pool in his stomach curdle, and his emotions stabbing at his closing throat. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why the fuck did he do that?

Mark opened his eyes slowly, taking a breath in. "Sean?" he whispered. Sean didn't move. "Can you sit up, please?" Sean jumped backwards off of Mark, allowing him to finally sit up. Mark shifted up, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat as he did. He side-eyed Sean, as if reading his body language. He took a few deep breaths before speaking again. "Guess I should have expected that." Mark ran a hand over his mouth; Sean wondered if he was wiping away the kiss. "The past few days have been..." he trailed off. Sean knew what he meant.

"I'm sorry," Sean whispered. The camera was still rolling. He felt stupid.

Mark took a sharp breath. "Do you mean that?" He turned his head to face Sean. "Do you regret kissing me?"

Saying it out loud hit Sean in his chest. He had kissed Mark. That had happened. It was real. Sean nodded.

Mark closed his eyes. "Don't feel bad."

"I do feel bad," Sean admitted. Granted, he mostly felt bad because he had used the kiss as a way of avoiding telling Mark the truth, but making Mark feel awkward was also making him feel guilty. "I shouldn't have."

Mark didn't reply straight way. He wiped his face again and looked at the camera. "Robin's gonna enjoy editing this."

Sean sulked. "I'll edit this one." Sean couldn't wait to find the clip of the kiss, section it off, then completely delete it from his project, from his harddrive, from his memory without reviewing it ever again. He shuffled forward, leaning to turn the camera off, but Mark reminded him of his outro. They quickly filmed it, and Sean felt a great relief as he flicked the camera off, finally.

He turned to face Mark. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that." Mark rose from his seat, avoiding making eye contact with Sean. "You make it sound like it was a bad thing."

"Was it a bad thing?" Sean asked, somewhat hopefully.

Mark stopped in the doorway. "I don't know. Maybe not." His hand gripped the frame, his back still turned to Sean. "Warn a guy next time, yeah?" And he left the room.

Sean closed his eyes. Next time. There could be a next time. Possibly. His head swam. He was out of it. He needed to patrol tonight, for his own sake.


	7. Chill on My Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the last of the three main plot threads have finally arrived! (Okay, cheating, it started a few chapters ago, but details, details!) And yeah, reminder, Anti isn't Antisepticeye. It's a joke and something to throw Sean off guard. Enjoy!

It felt amazing to be back on the street at night. The cool air whipped his skin through the fabric of his makeshift suit, and the fading smell of car fumes and fast food swirled in his nostrils. He let himself rest at the top of a fire escape, watching down at the street below, just breathing in the city. It a great to be back.

He had already dealt with a few people tonight. Drunks, mostly, and one abusive girlfriend bruising up her boyfriend's chest. Sean had helped them all calm, and he let himself spark a flame of anger in the beaten boyfriend. Anger is fueled by injustice, and Sean hoped that in his newfound strength to stand up to her, he could leave her for good. Sean hardly got to insight negative emotions in people, so it made him smile a little seeing the positive effects of it. All emotions are valid, not everyone needs to feel calm for a situation to resolve peacefully. The boyfriend had scared his abuser off, which was the best Sean could do to help for now. He wished the guy all the best and happiness.

But here, on the fire escape, his chin pressed into the cold metal of the bar, its chill seeping through the ski mask, Sean let his mind wander back to earlier in the day. He had tried his best all night to forget about it, to let the calm waves in his chest rest his and other's souls, but now that he was alone, that he had a brief break from his patrol, the thoughts came back.

What was happening between him and Mark? He had no idea how Mark felt about him. Did Mark like him? He had mentioned a possible "next time". But, there again, that next time could simply be Mark preparing for Sean's inability to hold himself back again. It wasn't necessarily consent, more an awareness of a probability.

Sean went to sigh, but he stopped himself, instead chuckling at the irony. This time last week, he was worrying about Mark finding out he was an Atom, his crush on him the least of his worries. But now, now Sean had two anxieties playing in his head, granted, one was more serious than the other, but a lack of understanding and a secret are two very different things. Sean could solve one by questioning and one by answering.

A group of stumbling students caught his ear, and he peaked out from his perch to watch them. They seemed okay, just having a good laugh as they made their way home. It was still early in the night. They probably all had lectures tomorrow. One of the girls had fallen behind. She was huddled over on herself, carrying her high heels in her hand. None of the rest of the group paid too much attention to her, but she was close enough that it was clear she was a part of the group. Maybe she had fallen out with one of them? Maybe today was a bad depression day and she just wanted to be in bed?

Sean watched as she blindly followed the group, not looking up from the ground, and as the group crossed the street, she stepped down onto the road and her ankle gave out below her. She fell to the ground unceremoniously with a cry. Sean sat up straight.

The group heard their friend's yell and stopped to watch her as she knelt at the kerb-side, crying in pain. She threw her shoes to the side in frustration, swivelling her legs around to rub at her knees. She looked at her palms; Sean guessed they were bleeding. Oh no, no more mini-skirts for her for the next month.

One of the girls shouted to her, "Come on, Ellen. We're nearly home." The downed girl, Ellen, lowered her head and cried into her lap. The other girl approached her friend and stood above her, probably too tipsy to kneel down with a steady balance next to her. "Up you get. No use crying about it." Ellen's shoulders shook harder.

Sean felt sorry for her. The girl towering over her scoffed and turned the face the rest of the group. "Should we just leave her here?" Sean knew she had probably said that as a cold tactic to make her friend stand up, the kind of harsh parenting tactic used on toddlers who will be sold to the circus or have all their toys sold on eBay if they don't behave.

Ellen didn't see it as such. The way she slumped further into herself, Sean could tell she had taken it to heart. Perhaps he could intervene and make her feel better. He started to rise from where he sat, planning his path down the metal stairs and down an alley, when a flash of light caught his eye. Ellen was on fire.

The fire towered in the street, knocking the girl who had been stood there moments ago go the ground, her body black and burnt. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was happening?

Sean froze in shock. From here, he could feel the anger radiating like the heat from the inferno. Was Ellen dead? No, she couldn't be. The pure rage emoting from this mighty flame must have been Ellen.

She was an Atom. A repressed, a shamed and scared Atom.

Sean started running. He jumped down the stairs three at a time, his chest seizing as he made his way down the alley. On the street, he could feel the blast of heat, and he had to hide behind a wall to catch his breathe and get his bearings. The rest of the group had ran away, thank God, but looking around the corner for half a second, Sean could still see the crisped girl on the ground, and she hadn't moved an inch. Please, no. She didn't deserve this.

Ellen was screaming. It was so wretched and so vile that Sean couldn't help but think back to the dog the night before. He couldn't help the dog; he had to help Ellen.

He closed his eye, taking a breath in, preparing himself. He expected to be burnt if he got closer to her. Should he risk it? To be close enough to have a full effect, was it worth sacrificing his own safety, his own body, possibly his own life?

Yes. Sean was sure. He made a promise to himself to help people, and he knew that even if he died, and Mark found out his secret from the clothes on his corpse, Mark would know he died trying to help people, and right now that was all he cared about: helping people.

He let out a breath and turned the corner. The fire was gone. Ellen stood still, eyes wide, staring at a figure in front of her. Sean couldn't see from his spot, but the figure seemed to be dressed head-to-foot in black, its face covered. It looked a lot like Sean, except its suit seemed sleeker, like more thought went into it. The figure took a step towards Ellen, who took a step back, her arms cowering her face. The figure paused, but then continued forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. A second later, the girl threw herself into the figure's arms.

Sean turned back around and corner and blinked. There was someone else?

\--

Thinking about it, of course there were others like him. The couple thousand of people effected by the chemical disaster had a few options: crime, heroism or civilian life, so surely there were others out there who chose the same path as Sean. He wondered why he had never seen this person before.

Sean had fled the scene when he saw the blue lights flashing in the windows, echoing down the street. The last thing he needed was the cops catching him. The figure seemed to have the same idea, but it stayed close, hiding in a nearby alley. The police had rounded the street, guns pointed at Ellen, who was sobbing all the way to the ground where she was cuffed. Sean ran after that. He couldn't stay to find out what happened to her or her friend.

It was an hour after the incident when he found himself perched on a rooftop. It wasn't like his powers allowed him to be an extraordinary climber or anything, but the mask of night certainly made climbing fire escapes easier to do. The events with Ellen had shook him, but moreso he felt curious. The figure had entranced his thoughts.

He was watching a group of homeless people all sat in a doorway sharing cigarettes, just to make sure no one bothered them, when he felt a presence behind him. He panicked at first, turning around to expect a security guard or police officer, but instead he saw the dark silhouette of a man.

The figure.

It was a man, Sean was sure of it. His suit clung to his body, the opposite of Sean's loose-fitting fitness outfit, and he towered over where Sean was sat, his muscles intimidating through the spandex. He looked like something about of Marvel.

Sean opened his mouth to speak, but thought against it. His accent would be instantly recognisable if he spoke, and he wasn't very good at impersonations either. Maybe it was best if he stayed quiet. After all, his alter ego had never spoken to anyone before. The mask went on and the mouth shut up. Why speak when you could feel?

The figure watched him for a second, the dark plastic on his mask that covered his whole face instead of just his eyes doing its best to hide everything from Sean: the man's face, his thoughts, his emotions.

After what felt like too long to be comfortable, the man spoke up. His voice was muffled, a low pitch, monotone with a hint of something Australian. "Who are you?"

Sean bit his tongue. Every name he could think of ran through his head. Sean. Jack. JackSepticEye. No, none of them. Jesus, think of something! Jackieboy Man was ironic, but easy to Google and link back to him. He scrounged his mind for something, anything. His powers were empathy. Emotions.

Riley. Like, Riley from Inside Out.

He couldn't say it though. He couldn't speak. Instead, he dipped one of his bare fingers in a small puddle in the gutter, using the water to write on the concrete roof.

The figure moved closer to read it. "Riley, huh?" He asked. He folded his arms. "My name is Anti."

Sean's heart stopped. No, surely they didn't know who Antisepticeye was. This man was nothing like the Anti Sean knew. No, it was just a coincidence, surely.

Sean held a hand out for Anti to shake- Jesus, it felt weird calling him Anti in his head. He was more like a Dark Anti- no, that was probably some ship or something out there, and the last thing he needed to be thinking about right now was his and Mark's likenesses making out.

Anti shook his hand. "I've seen you around, Riley," he said gruffly.

Sean cocked his head. He was trying his best to hold a conversation with no words.

Anti walked to the edge of the roof to sit down beside him. "I saw you take on that mobster about a month ago." Sean is still proud to see his mugshots in the newspapers. "And I was there that night you talked that man down from that bridge."

Sean didn't say anything in response to that. Anti noticed. "Well, I say talked. You don't seem much for talking." Sean nodded. "Are you mute?" Sean nodded again. Best to keep that lie. Might save his life.

Anti rolled his head to face out to the skyline. Sean watched as his spandex suit stretched over his chest with each breath. Damn, this man was toned. Could snap Sean in half if he felt like it. It seemed so different from the warm arms of Mark, who felt so safe and secure. If Sean was being honest with himself, Anti intimidated him.

Anti continued. "I was there the other night as well, at the warehouse." And Sean sat up straighter. Him! It was him to pulled him from the drugged-up warehouse the other night! It was him who saved him from the overstimulation. Immediately, Sean felt the words "thank you" form on his tongue, but he bit it hard to stop himself. He winced, instead bringing his hand up to his chin and, in a sweeping motion, extended it forward. Mark had taught him a few bits of American Sign Language. This "thank you" will have to do.

Anti nodded. "I don't know much sign language, to be honest, so sorry if I can't understand everything you say," and that was okay with Sean, because he didn't know much either.

Anti seemed tense. His shoulders were knotted together, as if he was scared of every breath he took. It was only then that Sean understood and immediately empathised with him. Anti was in the same boat as Sean. They both were Atoms who were illegally helping people. Well, Sean assumed Anti was helping people. He had only seen him do one thing, which was hug a girl. He still had so many questions about the Ellen incident, but had no way of communicating them to the man beside him. So, instead, he sat in silence.

Anti looked up at the moon. "It's beautiful tonight," he commented, and how fucking awkwars do you have to be to talk about the sky to a complete stranger.

Sean rolled his eyes. As much as he wanted to know more about this Anti, he also knew that this was awkward and probably going to end up with either Anti turning on him, or finding out who he was. It was best to avoid all that. Sean rose from his perch and stepped away from the edge.

Anti looked up. "Oh, you're leaving?" For someone who spoke in monotone, he sure sounded sad. Sean was probably the first Atom he had ever made friends with. It hit Sean. Anti was the first Atom he had officially met. He seemed nice enough, maybe they could become friends.

Sean nodded, but he reached forward to place a hand on Anti's shoulder reassuringly, and then extended his hand again for him to shake. Anti accepted it. "It's been a pleasure to meet you," Anti said. Sean was sure there was a smile behind that mask. "I'll see you very soon, I'm sure." Sean nodded. He would definitely be on the lookout for his new acquaintance.

Sean walked away across the roof, and as he placed a hand on the fire escape to walk down, he turned to look back at Anti. He was gone. Sean had no idea who he was, or what his abilities may be, but this man was certainly an enigma. And for all the intimidation Anti still gave him, Sean was curious. He needed to know more about him. But, Anti was right about one thing: the moon was beautiful tonight.

* * *

* * *


	8. Tingle on My Lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many chapters have I posted today? Sorry, I'm on a roll with all this writing. Anyway, enjoy!

It was the first morning in the past few days where Sean had woken up without Mark's arms wrapped around him. It suddenly felt strange, like the walls of the guest room that he had spent the past two months accommodated to were now strangers again. It felt wrong laying here, so he quickly rolled out of bed.

He found Mark making breakfast, which was a nice change. It wasn't anything too fancy, just an omelette for the two of them. They sat down to eat, talking casually, and Sean only half-listened to Mark as he spoke.

He was thinking of Anti. That man, he was still lingering in Sean's mind. He needed to figure out a way of talking to him without revealing his accent. Carrying a notebook around was stupid - he was lucky that the puddle was still in the gutter so he could tell Anti his newly made-up name.

"What do you think?" Mark asked.

Sean widened his eyes. "Honestly, I wasn't listening."

Mark rolled his eyes. "You just tired?"

Sean nodded. "Yeah, was editing last night," which was true, he did spend an hour after patrolling slicing the ridiculously embarrassing kiss video up into a million pieces to destroy the evidence.

Mark gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, I was just saying, we should actually record a Let's Play today."

"Yay, work," Sean whooped sarcastically.

"Come on," Mark said around a mouthful of omelette, "you had a few days off for my birthday. Time to get your ass back into gear."

"My ass is in gear." Sean cocked an eyebrow at Mark as he shifted his ass in his chair. "Is your ass in gear?" It was a stupid rebuttle, but it made Mark laugh.

"My ass is always in gear!" Mark declared, raising his voice, pointing a finger to the sky. "My ass is ready for anything!"

Sean couldn't help it. He flicked his eyes down to his own crotch, and as quickly as they had flicked down, they flicked back up to meet Mark's eyes. Mark flushed red. Neither of them needed to say anything else.

\--

They decided to play Portal Co-Op. It had been a while since either of them had played Portal, and the humour of GLaDOS and the arguing between the two of them was some good fun. They played the online levels, asking their fans to send in links to their own creations for them to tackle.

It was fun, the two slowly making their way through, Mark being serious and bossy trying to complete the puzzles while Sean role played with the Companion Cube that everyone seemed to cram into every level. In one level, Sean had taken the time to collect every Turret without knocking them over to create a Turret conga line, which Mark hadn't noticed until he had figured out the puzzle enough to need Sean's assistance again and had entered the room in the chamber with the Turret Party. He took great pleasure is knocking down the Turrets in front of Sean. Sean pouted, but when one Turret landed in the perfect position and shot Mark dead, Sean had to laugh, throwing his controller into his lap to hoot at Mark.

"That's what you get, you bully," he declared, pulling a tongue at Mark.

Mark pouted. "You were being childish."

"You were the one who crashed my party. Who's the real child?"

Mark paused the game and turned to him, a glint in his eye. "You are the child. You are definitely the child."

Sean smirked. "And what does that make you? The Daddy?"

Mark froze, and a second too late, Sean felt all the embarrassment seep through his chest. Jesus, that was a bit too far.

Mark coughed. He unpaused the game and walked his character back through the chamber to Sean's character. It was only as his character stopped next to him that Mark muttered under his breath, so much so that there was no way the camera in front of them picked it up, "Behave, or Daddy will have to teach you a lesson," and Sean couldn't do anything but shup up and follow Mark's instructions on how to complete the puzzle.

\--

It left a vibe in the air, a fog that Sean had to wade through as he moved around the house. He felt Mark's eyes on his back as he cooked them dinner, felt a heavy pang in his chest every time he caught Mark's eyes, a sudden chill every time Mark pressed up behind him to reach for something. There was tension there, for sure, but Sean had no idea what to do about it. Was this to do with the kiss yesterday? Did Mark genuinely have a daddy kink? Was it Sean over imaging things? Did Sean have a daddy kink?

Dismissing that last thought quickly, because no, no he didn't, Sean edited the Q&A video from yesterday while Mark edited the Portal Co-Op. Mark had finished the American food editing last night while Sean was out, having posted the video a few hours ago. Sean's subscribers had noticed Sean's irregular uploads due to his nightly missions, but they chocked it up to him being busy hanging out with Mark and his other American friends, which was also true. He was in the States for not only his friends but for a holiday, to see things, to experience America, although the novelty did die off after the first month.

He was lay on the sofa, filtering through the footage, his earphones on. He heard movement beyond his music: Mark had probably moved from his recording room. He sat up, looking over the back of the sofa to see Mark in the doorway of the kitchen. He was shirtless.

Sean took an earphone out. "Where's your shirt?"

Mark turned to smile at him. He was eating a bag of potato crisps. "I'm gonna shower."

"You're eating crisps," Sean noted. "That's not showering."

"They're not crisps, they're chips," Mark laughed.

"Na-ah." Sean sat up further and smirked. "I'm the Irish lad here, and we Irish are the master of all things potato. Crisps are crisps. Chips are chips-"

Mark waved a hand at him. "Come on, you're making up words at this point."

"- and jacket potatoes and jacket potatoes."

"They're not wearing jackets! It makes no sense!" Mark exclaimed. He had finished his snack and had throw the packet away, wiping the crumbs on his shorts. "They're baked potatoes."

"They're wearing little skin jacket."

"Would you wear a human skin jacket?"

Sean cringed. "Ew, no!" They both laughed. "Are you actually getting on the shower sometime today?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "You just want me to get naked, don't you?"

And there it was again. Mark flirting, which a week ago would have been normal for them. They did it all the time on camera, on stage, in front of fans and friends. But now... It felt weird, like maybe there was some weight behind the words, that maybe there was some truth to it all.

Sean hesitate to answer, and the second-long wait was enough to make Mark stand up straighter and look worried. "Did I go to far?"

Sean shook his head. "I don't think it's possible to go 'too far' when it comes to us."

"Well, yeah." Mark slowly crossed the room towards Sean. "If our friendship can survive a surprise kiss, then I think we could handle anything."

Sean stopped for a second to think, because his two dilemmas were presenting themselves to him, and he could easily choose between the two which to pursue. He felt like a video game character, torn between two choices, unsure whether this game ended in two very different ending, or each option looped around to the same results.

Sean could tell him about his secret, about being an Atom, about Riley. After all, if a kiss didn't stop Mark from hating him, then surely this wouldn't.

Or he could ask Mark about his feelings, whether this flirting was real, what he truly thought about the kiss.

Mark was still approaching, his eyes never leaving Sean's. Sean wanted to cower behind the back of the sofa; he couldn't make this choice. Which was more important?

Mark was stood in front of him, towering over him, looking down through his eyelashes. His hands lent on the back of the sofa next to Sean's. It felt weird, having this barrier there, the back of the sofa stood strongly between them, but it was a lifeline for Sean right then, the only thing keeping him grounded.

Mark let the corner of his lips raise in a smile, and took Sean's silence as permission to call the shots. "Sit up."

Sean shifting where he was knelt, raising his butt off of his legs. Now level with Mark, his gaze seemed less intimidating.

Mark blinked and gave a smile. "Kiss me."

Sean's heart palpitated. He couldn't move. What if he had heard Mark wrong? What if this was all just a really elaborate fantasy he was playing in his head?

Mark watched Sean's reaction, before pulling away, his eyes soaking with fear. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Too far?"

Sean let out a shuddering breath. "We don't do 'too far'," he reminded him.

Mark gave a thankful smile. "Not the right time?"

"Bit of a surprise," Sean admitted.

"Well, at least I ask before I take."

Sean buried his face into a sofa pillow next to him. "I said I was sorry!" he shouted with a laugh, his voice muffled by the material, and he rolled onto his back. Mark rounded the sofa to sit by his feet. "Yesterday was a weird day."

Mark chuckled. "Certainly." He placed a hand on Sean's thigh. "But, my offer still stands." He let his eyes look into Sean's. "If you want to kiss me, then you're welcome to."

Sean's chest hurt, but his brain was hurting more. So many questions, so much anxiety, and he didn't know where to start. He moved the pillow away from his mouth. "As long as I warn you?"

Mark shrugged. "I'll get used to it." Mark wanted this to be a long-term thing.

Sean willed himself to move, concentrated every muscle in his body to make him sit up, and finally, finally with every ounce of his willpower, he was eye-level with Mark again. He let his eyes flick to Mark's lips. "Now?"

Mark nodded. "Now."

And Sean didn't have to be told twice. He lent the rest of the way forward, letting Mark capture his lips between his, and this time he felt Mark kiss back, he felt as Mark's lips weaved between his, and he sank heavily into it, finally feeling free from his own head.

* * *


	9. Burning in My Eyes

Now that he was actively looking out for him, it was easier to spot the dark figure in alleys, or on scaffolding, or behind industrial bins. Anti had been watching him all night, keeping a firm distance, never getting too close, but he followed Sean everywhere he went.

At first this intimidated Sean. How long had Anti been watching? Not just tonight, but in general? How much did Anti know about him?

But the longer the night drew out, and the more he spotted Anti, the more he began to feel a wave of security over him. It was like Anti was watching, ready to step in if Sean needed him.

Tonight hadn't been too eventful. After last night's inferno, more police had been placed to patrol the streets looking for Atoms. So, maybe it was a good thing he had a guardian Atom on his side. Sean had spent most of his night dodging officers, which by this point he was a pro at, having done this for such a long time. The bigger presence of the law had also sent a shockwave in the criminal world, as Sean didn't find anything worth fighting for.

It was quiet. Sean didn't like it. He needed a distraction right now. Because as much as kissing Mark was like a dream come true, twenty seconds is not enough, and Mark, true to his word, had retreated to the shower after another peck to Sean's lips, and that's all that was ever said about the kiss. So close, yet a million miles away.

Sean worried that Mark felt nothing but curiousness. Mark had never been with a guy before; what if he was just using Sean to aid his bicuriousity? Could Sean handle a friends with benefits while nursing this crush.

Sean aggressively crossed out the word crush in his mind. No, this was more than that at this point. Sean was in love and he fucking knew it. He was in love with Mark Fischbach, the man who gave him no clues yet dangled all the answers just out of reach.

He needed distracting.

He lay on his back on top of the roof. It was here where he had met Anti last night, and part of him was hoping that his illusive shadow would follow him back to the roof and understand that this was a place they could talk.

Sure enough, he heard footsteps approaching. He opened his mouth to greet him but stopped himself in time. Anti lay beside him. "Sky's beautiful tonight." This again.

Sean turned his head to look at the masked man next to him and gave him a nod. Anti sighed. "It's hard to see all the stars in the city." And it was true, Sean had seen brighter skies back in Ireland during his youth. But the one thing that the world could never outshine was the moon herself.

Anti sat up, leaning on his arms. "Police are swarming the city." Sean nodded. "We can't do much, can we?" Sean shook his head. "So, let's talk."

Sean pointed a finger at his mouth and waggled it. "Oh yeah," Anti sighed, "you don't talk."

Instead, Anti lay back down with a chuckle. "Well, guess I'll do all the talking. And maybe we can play a game a charades as well?" He was probably smirking behind his mask. Sean could imagine him: he was probably blonde, going from the Australian accent. Shaggy hair, blue eyes, a wicked smile. He thought of Luke from 5 Seconds of Summer. Oh no, he's hot!

Sean turned to look back at the sky. No, this was okay. So what? His Atom stalker with biceps to die for was probably a hot Aussie. Awesome! Nothing to fear, no reason to interrupt Sean's already crippling crush-pile on his heart.

Anti spoke. "So, I didn't realise I was an Atom until a few weeks ago." This caught Sean off guard. The suit made it look like Anti had been doing this for a while. It looked like he had planned it, had it tailored to his needs. "My powers are weird, basically useless, so I'm still learning the extent of my capabilities. I still question whether I have some other hidden power I haven't unlocked yet."

Sean wanted to ask what it was, what was his powers, but stayed silent and turned his head to face the blank mask again. As if reading his mind, Anti answered. "I don't actually know fully what my powers are yet. I'm still experimenting." So, he wanted to keep it wrapped up. Well, wouldn't be the first Atom Sean knew who didn't like to talk about his powers.

Anti let his arm gently hit Sean's bicep. "What about you? Did you know straight after the accident?"

Sean nodded his head, because yes, he knew about his powers before he had even found out that the government had fucked up. By the time the media was reporting about the failed chemical bomb test detonation, Sean had collapsed in the middle of Wal-Mart with a seizure. The emotions of everyone around him suddenly hitting him all at once had caused his brain to restart, and even as he lay awake in the hospital afterwards, he felt sickly from the pain and sadness that surrounded him. Mark by his side was his only solace.

Anti nodded as well. "Lucky. You've had more time to process it mentally than me."

Anti turned his whole body onto his side. It reminds Sean of sharing a bed with someone, and he could almost trick himself into thinking it, if not for the hard concrete aching his back. Whiplash does take a good few days to fade away, he reminded himself. He turned to face Anti as well.

Anti ran his hand over the back of his hooded mask, as if combing a hand through his hair. It was probably an old habit that hadn't translated across well to his new suit, but Sean found it somewhat adorable. It was chilly, and Sean felt his fingertips twitch as he thought about drawing a duvet cover over the top of them both.

Jesus, why was he thinking like this? Anti was a stranger. He didn't know him, he didn't even know what he looked like. He was already starting something with Mark (what that was, he wasn't too sure yet). Anti was just a distraction from Mark. He wasn't a new crush, he wasn't a new friend. He was just someone who he needed so he could express his secret identity without worrying about consequence. As long as he kept daytime Sean out of nighttime Riley's adventures with Anti, then all would be fine. And hey, maybe having Anti to talk to would help reduce his mental stress.

And then Sean smiled to himself under his mask, because yes, this was perfect. His two stresses were being resolved. Mark was actively showing interest in him, so Sean, despite all the questions of Mark's intent, felt more confident in that arena. He knew he could kiss Mark and not worry about consequence. And this here with Anti, his other stress, his secret, this was all Anti ever knew of him. He only knew Riley. It was like the stars were alining. The weight in Sean's chest started to simmer into a liquid once more. Everything was going to be fine.

So no, he wasn't curled up in bed next to a hot Australian. He was lay on a cold, rough rooftop in the middle of LA next to a stranger who he could talk to - well, sign to - and who could help his mental health.

Sean wanted to talk about everything and nothing, but he couldn't pick the conversation. That power remained with Anti. Anti seemed to be relaxing in the silence, as if sensing that Sean was thinking. He interrupted the quiet air with a soft sigh. "What about your power?"

Sean tensed up slightly. He had never spoken about his power to anyone before. For as much as he loved helping people with it, he was ashamed of letting the ones he loved know. There was such a sigma against manipulation, to the point that the finger of abuse could be pointed at Sean if he ever pissed off a friend who knew about his powers. With an unsteady and politically divided government, he knew any accusation would be the death of him. It wasn't just about betraying Mark during his little spouts of panic or stress, Sean knew he had the power to ruin his life if he chose to, and it scared him.

And he wanted to tell all this to Anti. He wanted to explain that he was messed up, that he was walking a fine line, that he was a bad person if he ever used his powers on Mark. But he couldn't. He couldn't say a damn thing.

Anti poked his arm. "I see you standing near people and they stop what they were doing. Do you control them, somehow?" Sean nodded. "Mentally?"

Sean shook his head. He waggled a finger to his chest.

"Ah," Anti said, "emotionally." Sean nodded.

And there it was. The truth was out. Someone, someone who wasn't one of his victims, knew about his powers. Anti knew that Sean could be controlling his emotions right now, making him like Riley, faking a friendship. Anti knew.

It hit Sean right in the chest. His eyes burnt. God, no, not now. It was a mixture of relief and fear. It wrapped together, spiraling through his chest. Anti hated him. Or maybe Anti pitied him. Anti didn't trust him. Or maybe Anti didn't care. Sean's mind raced as he huddled more into a ball on the ground, his head tucking down. His breath whimpered.

Anti sat up. "No, no," he whispered, shuffling closer to Sean, placing a hand on his shaking shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Sean sat up, pushing Anti's shoulder slightly. It wasn't Anti's fault for bringing it up. Sean was just facing stress and anxiety head on and it hurt.

Anti pressed their legs together as he sat in Sean's space. Sean could feel himself attracting into his space, the crook of his shoulder looking more comfy than a five-star hotel bed, with memory foam and control-panel massagers buried within the mattress. Sean resisted sinking into Anti's side, but the other man had brought an arm to wrap around his shoulder, so Sean couldn't help it. He buried his cotton mask into the spandex neck and let himself cry.

Anti's hands pressed soothing circles into his back. Sean felt so safe right now. Anti not only had his six out on the streets, but Anti cared about his wellbeing. Anti wanted him to be happy. Sean could feel all this, not through his powers, but from Anti's body language. The small shushes and whispered of comfort in his ear made Sean's heart lurch.

This man, who the fuck was the man? No one has the right to waltz into Sean's life and make him feel so safe and secure. He doesn't deserve this.

Sean pulled back sharply. Anti's arms went up in defence. "I'm sorry," Anti gasped out, "I was just trying to help."

Sean pressed his palms against his temples and focused on his breathing. He needed to go home. There was nothing to do tonight, the police had it sorted. He just needed to be safe at home, safe with Mark. Yes, Mark. He needed Mark.

He stood up, his legs shaking, and he stopped to watch Anti as he rose from the ground. He didn't want to leave things on bad terms, so he extended a hand for Anti to shake. Anti grasped it softly, giving it a squeeze. God damn it, even now Anti was making Sean's heart flutter with security.

"Get home safe, yeah?" Anti whispered. The glow of a blue flashing light haloed behind him "I don't want to see you on tomorrow's front page behind bars." And if to rub salt in the wound, "You don't deserve that."

And Sean had to bite his tongue as he turned and walked away.

\--

When he got back in, he was surprised to find Mark curled up shirtless in his bed. He was asleep, but the sound of Sean opening his bedroom door has stirred him. He look up, hair messy, tired eyes, and gave Sean a smile. "There you are. Midnight drive?"

Sean nodded. "Yeah."

"Still overthinking?"

Sean flopped down next to him, not bothering to take off his day clothes. "Yeah."

Mark extended his hand to let his finger brush under Sean's short sleeve. "Is it about before?"

"The kiss?" Sean rubbed a hand over his tired face. "Yeah."

Mark looked concerned. "Do you regret it?"

Sean shook his head. "No, no I don't. It's just-" Sean didn't know what to ask. He had so many questions, but his brain was tired and he was emotionally wrecked from talking with Anti. He closed his eyes with a sigh and snuggled into his pillow.

Mark hummed. "Do you like kissing me?"

Without opening his eyes, Sean nodded.

Mark shifted closer. His hand on Sean's arm trailed down until his fingers were resting on his hips. "Do you want to kiss me right now?"

Sean stayed still, because yes, oh god, he wanted to kiss Mark, but he was so tired and he couldn't handle any more emotions today.

Mark slowly lifted the hem of Sean's shirt, tickling the skin along his waistband with feather touches. He waited, and when he got no reply, he shuffled his head closer. "You need to get dressed."

He slowly, ever so slowly gripped the hem of the shirt and started to pull it upwards. Sean's eyes opened a fraction to gage Mark's face. He was watching Sean's face, something soft yet determined painted in his eyes. Sean's heart skipped.

Sean decided to entertain him on this. He pushed himself up so he was sat on his knees, Mark joining him a few seconds later. Without hesitation, Mark reached forward and returned his grip on Sean's shirt on either side, pulling in upwards in a slow but swift motion, eyes locked to Sean's, face straight yet so readable. Sean relished in the moment he lifted his arms and the shirt covered his face. He tried to steady his chest.

The shirt slipped off his head, and Mark tossed it to the floor. He let his gaze wander up and down Sean's naked chest, taking in each little dip, each bruise, each scar. His fingers reached out to lightly trace the healing scar on his hip, the puncture points of the stitches still prickled. Mark's eyebrows knotted. "That looks recent."

Sean could feel his walls falling as Sean and Riley started to collide. These scars, these bruises and bites and wounds and fractures. All in a nights work, but Mark had never seen them, except the black eye from a month and a half ago, and, of course, the scar in his wrist. This was new territory for Mark, and was certainly new mental territory for Sean.

He could lie. He know he could. Pretend that it was nothing, like he wasn't in danger every night. He could say he had emergency treatment to get his appendix removed, or that the seat belt the other night had just left a bad mark on him. But at this point, he knew Mark wouldn't believe it.

He told the truth.

"I was out on my night drive, and I was in a twenty-four-hour shop-" he paused to lick his lips "- and I guy with a knife tried to rob the place." It was the truth, he just didn't mention the fact that Sean was only in the shop because the knifeman was.

Mark's eye widened. "Jesus," he whispered.

Sean continued. "It was kid on the register, he didn't know how to open the till without a key, so the guy with the knife got angry."

Sean had to think what to say next. In reality, Sean had walked in behind the guy and had instantly tried to calm him. The guy was startled by his presence and had slashed out at Sean. It wasn't a deep cut, the thick cotton of his suit taking most of the force, but it made Sean feel sick and affected his ability to control the man. He had eventually calmed him into a meditative state, enough that he knew he could leave the scene before the police arrived and the man would still be there.

Sean twisted the truth. "He didn't see me, so I jumped him."

"Christ, Sean," Mark shouted, but he wasn't angry. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Or he could have killed the kid!"

Mark pressed the joint of his nose with his fingers and breathed. "Sean, I know you have a big sense of justice, but please-" he reached forward to take Sean's face between his hands "- for the love of all things holy, please don't put yourself in danger for others."

Sean shuddered. "But there are people who need help, and if I can help-"

"You stay away! If helping means you getting hurt, then stay back and call the police." Mark's eyes were swimming with worry.

Sean pouted. "The police are arseholes who take their sweet time arriving on scene." This was true, from Sean's experience patrolling. "People could die."

"You could die!"

Sean lent back, letting Mark's hands fall from his face. Mark had scared him. His raised voice, his trembling hands, the realisation of his own mortality. Sean could feels the tears prickle again, but no! He stopped himself, widening his eyes to blink away the tears. He turned his head away from Mark and pouted at the ground. "You would have done the same."

"Yes, because I'm strong enough to."

Sean glared at Mark. "What you trying to say?"

Mark took a deep breath in, letting his anger roll away, and after a second he looked back up to Sean and gave him a soft smile. He reached forward and gently poked Sean's arm. "Noodle arms."

And Sean wanted to be angry. He wanted to push Mark backwards and shout at him. He wanted to cry. But, instead, he found himself slowly laughing, a giggle that rattled in his chest, and a blush appeared on his cheeks. He smiled at Mark. "Noodle arms," he replied.

Mark shuffled forward and placed his hands at the top of Sean's noodle arms. "You're already a hero, Sean," he whispered, and Sean had to take everything within him not to let his eyes widen in fear of discovery. "The things you do on your channel, the charities you've helped, the people you've saved." Mark lent up to press a kiss to Sean's forehead. "You've saved people." He breathed into Sean's hairline. "You saved me."

Sean choked. He brought his hands up and placed them on the small of Mark's back. Mark gave a hum. Mark moved his mouth from Sean's forehead and instead pressed his own forehead in its place.

He whispered, "When I met you, I was in a dark place. I never showed it to the cameras, but I was feeling so empty, and I looked around at the people around me, and they all felt like they were faking who they were, like their emotions weren't real, like they were just pretending to be my friends. Everyone felt so fake."

And Sean seized at this. This was what he was worried about. Mark thinking he was using his powers to control Mark's opinion on him, that Mark's happiness was fake. Mark had said it himself.

Mark continued, "But then I started talking to you, and you were such a ray of sunshine, and I would talk to you and it would ache inside me knowing that someone so unbelievably happy couldn't truly be this perfect in real life, and that you were probably faking it all." Mark swallowed. Sean could hear the tears in the back of his throat. "But then I met you in person at PAX, and-" Mark slid the tip of his nose off of Sean's and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. He pulled back not even an inch. "You were you! You were everything I hoped you were. You were so true, and so pure, and so fucking perfect." He pressed another kiss to Sean's lips. Sean was aching to move forward. Mark kept whispering. "And even when the cameras were off and it was just us two, everything felt so natural." He pressed another kiss. "You gave me hope. You saved me."

And Sean couldn't stop himself now. His hand wretched up Mark's back to grip his head as he slid his face further into Mark's lips, weaving his between Mark's as the older man let his a chesty groan. Their bare chests pressed into each other, and Mark's body heat seeped into Sean's and it instantly became an addiction for Sean. All of this was his new addiction.

Mark was pressing back further into Sean, and every time Sean's fingers curled around where they were lay at the nape of Mark's neck, Mark let out a whimper.

Fuck, everything felt so strong. Mark's hands digging into his waist, Mark's nose pressing into his cheek, Mark's hips knocking into his, Mark's lips bruising his.

Sean's heart cried and his lips burnt. He pulled back, instantly mourning the loss of contact, but, with his eyes still closed, he felt Mark's nose lift his chin up, and suddenly Mark's lips were sucking at his throat. Christ, Sean couldn't. This was so much. It was too much.

Sean let out a cry. His voice pierced the room and made Mark's fingers grip further. He growled into Sean's throat, "I need you."

And that was it. Björk was right. The sky caves in, the devil cuts loose, you blow blow blow blow your fuse. Sean started crying. Not just a single tear gently rolling down his face, no, he was full-on bawling up in pain. It hurt, his heart hurt so much.

Mark heard his wail and stopped sucking his neck, and turned his body to pressed against Sean's. His cheek was over his heart as he pushed Sean backwards onto the bed. He quickly wiggled out the knots and Sean found himself laying with his head on the pillow, their bare chests connected, Mark's ear pressed into where the pool of water lived in his chest. It a whirlpool, sucking everything down into a dark unknown, and he hoped to God Mark didn't get caught in its tidal waves.

He watched as Mark's head bobbed with each of Sean's gargled breathes. Mark's hand was flat against his hip, rubbing soothing patterns into his skin. "You're okay," Mark whispered. "You're okay."

Sean couldn't respond. Today had been so much emotion, and none of it had been anyone elses. It was all his own. But this was all he needed, like a therapeutic torture. It was masochism.

The minutes ticked by, and Sean found his breath again. He closed his eyes, letting sleep drag him under as Mark carefully wiggled up the bed to press his face into Sean's shoulder. It was a lot comfier for the both of them. Mark pressed a kiss to Sean's shoulder, and as Sean let sleep consume him, he heard the soft whispers from Mark. "My hero."


	10. Shiver on My Shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbetaed. Sorry for any mistakes!

Despite Mark's efforts last night to get Sean changed into pyjamas, Sean still woke up with his buckle digging into his hips. He squirmed, his eyes closed, blocking out the morning sun that tried to drag him out of this night dream he was having about doughnuts and Chica, arching his back off the bed to undo his buckle and open his fly. His eyes shot open when he heard the sound of deep chuckling next to him. He turned to see Mark, wide awake and sat up, watching him undress. "Need help?"

Sean rolled his eyes and closed then again. They ached and itches from all the tears last night had brought upon him. He sank into the mattress again; he didn't intend on fully taking his pants off.

Mark chuckled again. "Given up?" Sean only groaned in response. He had just woken up. He needed time to get his bearings. Mark rolled over to face him, crowding into his space and rested his chin on Sean's shoulder. His hand found its way to Sean's fly. "Need help?" he asked again.

Sean breathed in deeply. "Gonna wear them today," he groaned. God, his voice was wrecked.

Mark moved his hand away - he must have taken that as a profound "no" and had the respect to respond to denied consent - and buried his nose into the crook under Sean's ear. He whispered among a growl, "Thinking we could just lie in bed all day and not do anything."

Sean liked that idea a lot. In fact, it sounded almost as good of an idea as the time Mark suggested he stay over for three months. Wait, Sean thought, that idea had led to him becoming mutated by military dickheads and spiraling into a deep anxiety. But yes, it was still the best idea Mark had ever had.

Sean was about to agree, he needed the rest and Mark's attention, but he made the mistake of pulling his phone out to check the time. Bob had text him: 'Hey, my last day in LA today. Wade goes home tomorrow. Wanna hang?' And yes, hanging out with his friends also sounded like a good idea.

"Bob wants us all to hang out," he muttered, and Mark let out a sigh.

"He's going home soon."

"Tonight, I think." Sean sat up. Yeah, they definitely needed to get up now.

Mark sat up beside him, wrapping an arm around his bare waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Five minutes," he mumbled. Sean closed his eyes. How was he supposed to say no to that? They both lay back down, and Sean made effort to be the one to cuddle into Mark's shoulder. The affection can go both ways, and Mark deserved that much.

\--

The four of them went to a diner. Sean had always wanted to experience the stereotypical American diner, and now was the perfect time. It was further out than Mark would usually drive (Sean drove. Mark was still shook) but when they walked through the door to be met with the smell of greasy foods and hairspray, Sean's smile was worth it, and Mark had told him so. Sean blushed.

The four men sat in a booth and the waitress, a young girl in the traditional waitress get-up, took their orders. She kept glancing at the clock as she did; she must have been finishing her shift soon. Mark insisted that he order Sean's drink, as a treat, and Sean had just laughed. Sure, why not? As the waitress left, a sweet smile on her face as she winked at Sean, Wade started the conversation.

"So, you hear about the fire in town the other night?"

"What fire?" Bob asked, absentmindedly turning the salt shaker round and round on the table.

Sean tried to stay neutral. Ellen. That girl.

Mark spoke next, "Tragic. Killed a girl, I heard." And fuck, the friend had died after all. Sean felt guilty. Why didn't he step in earlier?

The waitress returned and handed them their drinks, and Sean had to drag himself out of the guilt to laugh at his drink. "Why is there ice cream in my coke?"

Mark smiled at him. "Try it!" and then he smacked his head. "Damn, we should have done this for the food test the other day."

Wade dragged them both back into the conversation. "The media says it was a gas leak." Sean narrowed his eyebrows. Why would the media say that? Wade continued, "Apparently the officials are saying it was a rogue Atom."

"Rogue?" Sean asked, because the Ellen he had saw looked scared and mistreated.

Wade nodded. "Official statement. They have a girl who they claim was the Atom."

"Do you believe it?" Mark asked.

Wade shrugged his shoulders. "I do think it was an Atom. Have you seen the street? Surely a gas explosion would have rubble and stuff. There's just a scorch-mark on the ground. Apparently they've taken her to a research facility to experiment on her to find a cure."

Mark's eyes widened. "Jesus Christ!"

"So, why would the government tell the truth but the media would lie?" Bob asked.

Mark looked down at the table. "Probably because they want the officials to stop scapegoating Atoms." The table went silent.

Sean decided to change the topic. He didn't need the guilt right now.

They talked about cons, and Amy's new boyfriend (it was their rare joint days off work, so she was with him instead of with her boys), and football, and eventually the waitress returned with their food. Sean looked down at his plate of grease. Perfect.

They ate and talked about nothing much, and Sean found himself smiling more than he had in days. The past few days had been a whirlwind for him, so to just relax with his friends was amazing. The food was great, his friends were great, and Mark's hand on his thigh under the table had his head spinning.

They had finished eating, none of them making any effort to leave anytime soon. Sean needed to piss. The waitress from before passed their table, wearing a jacket over her uniform. She was going home, Sean guessed, so he decided not to bother her and went searching for the toilet himself. Bob joined him.

They found the bathroom and did their business. While washing their hands, Bob had given Sean a quirky smile. "So, care to explain what Mark's doing under the table?"

Sean froze and willed every blood vessel in his face not to blush. "Huh?"

Bob laughed. "Don't play dumb. His hand. He hardly held his knife." He paused as the hand dryer blared, but then continued. "Are you two fucking?"

And Sean did blush at that. "No!" was his instant reaction, but after Bob raised an eyebrow, Sean's shouldered flopped and his gave up. "Kinda."

Bob laughed. "Oh my god, I knew it!"

Sean waved his hands out in front of him. "Don't tell anyone! We're not-" He had to think. Not what? Dating? Exclusive? Fucking? He sighed. "I don't know what we're doing."

Bob lent against the sinks. "Have you kissed?"

Sean nodded. "A few times."

"And has he ever told you he likes you?"

Sean shrugged. "Not explicitly. He's told me he deeply cares about me," which was kinda true, because Sean felt like last night's confession, Mark's reveal that Sean had helped him out of a dark place, that felt like Mark was pouring all his love into him. Sean didn't know if it was romantic or just gratitude, but it felt honest.

Bob hummed. "And, do you like him?"

Sean nodded. "I told him a few nights ago."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. We haven't spoken about all this." Sean rubbed his beard. "I'm kinda worried that it's turning into a friends with benefits sort of gig."

Bob pulled a face at him. "Then tell him again. Tell him you want to date."

"But what if it makes it awkward?" Sean whimpered.

"And kissing doesn't?"

Bob was right. Sean had to say something. It was obvious Mark liked him to some degree. As a friend, definitely, and if last night spoke volumes, Mark seemed to like him sexually as well. Romantically was another question.

Sean lent his weight on the sink and gave a nod. "I'll tell him," he promised, less to Bob and more to himself.

Bob patted his back with a smile, and after composing himself, they both left the bathroom.

Back at the table, Wade gave them a smile as they sat down. "We're gonna pay and head to the beach," he informed.

They all got their wallets out, and as Sean pulled his out of his pocket, Mark's hand stopped him. "I've got it," he whispered, and Sean let himself believe for a small moment that this was a date, and Mark was trying to seduce him, and Sean would offer to pay for next time, because a next time was a big promise he wanted to commit to.

Instead, Sean shook his head. "Don't worry," he whispered back. Mark frowned, but after Sean gave him another warm smile, he sighed and accepted it.

Bob raised a hand to grab the waitress' attention. It was another waitress who had been stood behind the till the whole time, and she slouched and look bored as all hell as she made her way across the room.

Sean looked down at his wallet, sifting through his dollar bills, when he suddenly jumped as Wade let out a scream. Mark, beside him, jumped backwards, raising an arm up to protect Sean. Sean looked up. The waitress was green. Literally green. Her skin was scaly, a dark shade of forest green, and the look on her face had gone from boredom to complete shock.

Sean spotted someone on another table call the police. They shouted into the phone, "There's an Atom! Come quick, shoot the fucking thing! It's gonna kill us!"

The waitress hadn't moved yet. She was staring at her hands, frozen, shaking like she had just been shot. Wade and Bob had scurried out of their seats and we're making a bee-line to the door. Mark seemed to be frozen, his arm still crossing between Sean and the waitress.

Sean broke his spell. He had calmed down - she was harmless - and although he couldn't calm down the entire diner, or stop the police showing up, or stop whatever was to happen to this woman afterwards, right now he could help her. He felt bad he couldn't help the dog. He felt bad he could help Ellen. And now, glancing down to read her nametag, 'Julie', Sean knew he needed to help Julie.

He closed his eyes, feeling the water in his chest. He tried to focus on Julie. She was in shock, so he waited for the sharp, stabbing ice to freeze over the pool. But they never came. He cracked his neck and kept trying. He waited for his soul to start shrinking to her size, but nothing changed. The edges of his body still felt the same.

What was happening? He couldn't do it. At the back of his mind he thought that maybe the incident with the dog had been his own fear taking over, but right now Sean was calm. Julie posed no threat. Maybe he was scared, deep down. Scared of what was going to happen to Julie. Scared of the consequences of being an Atom. Scared of the rumoured experimentation camp looking for a cure. Scared of Mark realising what he was doing.

Mark was watching him, a look in his eye as if to question whether they should leave or help the girl. Sean decided the latter. If he couldn't do it because his own fear was getting in the way, then he would have to do it the old-fashioned way.

Sean slowly stood up. Julie's eyes flashed up at him away from her hands. Sean smiled. Julie looked at the door - she was going to run - but Sean raised his hands out and bowed his head. "Hey, Julie," he spoke in a quiet voice, "It's okay." He stepped over Mark to get out of the booth, not caring that his butt was in his face. Sean told Julie the truth. "If you run, they'll think you've done something wrong." Julie's eyes widened. Sean continued. "If you stay calm and do as they say, then everyone here will think you are innocent."

"I am innocent," she whispered back, her voice shuddering.

Sean nodded. "Yeah, but you know what they are all currently thinking." Julie glanced at the door again, and Sean shushed her and stepped into her space. "Julie, this isn't fair." He reached out and softly grabbed her hand, the very thing she had feared moments before. Sean gave it a squeeze. "None of this is fair, but we have to fight the system from within. You can't play into their fear. You're better than them. You're stronger."

Julie was crying, but she nodded. Sean couldn't handle seeing her tears, glistening red as they fell from her eyes, so he stepped once more and wrapped his arms around her. She clung to him, her tears staining his white shirt, but he didn't care. He was helping her. Yes, she could have escaped if she had ran, but how long would she be on the run? How long would she be paranoid of everyone she spoke to, expecting the police to be knocking on her door any second.

Mark stood as he heard sirens. "Sean," he warned, "you can't be seen hugging her." Julie broke down more at this, her knees buckling, her grip on Sean's back the only thing keeping her up. Mark was right, though: being seen close to Julie would be enough evidence to bring Sean and Mark into questioning, and one DNA test later would have Sean tied up to a hospital bed.

Sean pulled back from Julie, and it pained him to see her collapse to the floor, unable to hold her back up as she rolled into a fetal position. Sean stepped back. "I'm sorry," he whispered, despite knowing that Julie probably didn't hear him.

He turned to look at Mark, who extended a hand. "Let's go," he said with a small, forced smile. Sean took his hand and let him pull him away.

* * *


	11. Tremble in My Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short filler chapter with dramatic ending, sorry. Sorry, I hate filler chapters. Ugh.

Sean didn't speak to Mark about it. In fact, the moment they arrived back at the house, he went straight to his room and locked the door. Mark let him be. He hadn't wanted to speak to Mark about it; he wanted Anti.

Anti was already on their roof - not Mark's roof, but their roof, the roof they both shared like a sacred secret - dangling his legs over the edge. The police were still swarming.

As Sean sat down beside him, he turned and sighed. "You don't look too good." Sean guessed it was his body language. He shrugged. Anti chuckled. "Rough day?"

And Sean wanted to tell him everything. About Julie, about his powers acting up, about Mark. Being mute was killing him inside. He considered faking an accent of some sort, but he knew it would sound terrible. Writing was too much of a hassle, and carrying a notebook was dangerous; he could drop it and the authorities would have evidence of him being an Atom.

Anti reached his hand over to take Sean's. "Do you wanna talk, Riley?" and Sean had to nod at that, because it was hurting so much. "Can you talk? Like, physically talk?" Sean nodded. "You just trying to hide your voice?"

Sean sighed. Why was he doing this? He could trust Anti, right? What was the worst Anti could do with the limited information his voice gave away? Sean already knew that Anti was Australian, so what was the harm in letting him know Sean was Irish?

Everything. Everything, because Sean was famous, and any fan of his with half a brain knew he was in America when the chemical bomb disaster happened, and it wouldn't be hard for Anti to figure it out.

Anti squeezed his hand. "How about I give you my cell number?" A mobile phone? Why hadn't Sean thought of that before? He could text Anti during the day. Not off his phone, obviously. He could buy a burner phone easy enough.

Sean nodded at Anti. It was a brilliant idea. All his stresses could be talked through, and he didn't have to open his mouth, and at night when they saw each other between saving people, Anti would talk to him about the texts. It made so much sense.

Sean realised he needed to buy a burner phone before he got Anti's number. He raised his hand, his thumb and pinky extended as he raised the hand to his head. Anti nodded. "You don't have it on you?" Sean shook his head slightly, bringing down his pretend phone and pretended to snap it. "You broke your phone?" Sean shook his head again, thinking fast, and raised his hand to show the number two. "Two phones?" Sean nodded. "You need another phone." Anti thought for a moment. "One that brea-- oh, a burner phone!" Sean pointed at him.

Anti let out a laugh. "Wow, that was hard!" His hand reached out to hold onto Sean's again, which had settled into his lap. "Well, I know a twenty-four-hour garage that sells them." Sean gestured at his suit. "Ah, yeah, we can't go in." Anti though in silent for a few seconds. "Hey, I helped a woman a few days ago, she said I could ask for favours if I needed them as a way to say thanks. She sleeps in the doorway outside the cosmetic store." Sean knew her. She was nice, didn't take too much nonsense from the drunks.

The two men left the roof, finding the shadows and corners of walls to avoid the police. There was less officers tonight, but Sean still felt like he was Solid Snake on a stealth quest. Anti was leading the way in front of him, and for once Sean could watch another Atom at work, watch as Anti would use shop winders reflections to look around corners instead of sticking his head around, how he was light on his feet so he could hear for footsteps, how he would pause and hold his breathe while they hid, waiting for officers to stroll past. It was fascinating.

They found the woman in her usual spot. She smiled up at the two of them. "You two teamed up?" she laughed.

Anti shrugged. "Maybe. We haven't fought as a team yet."

The woman sighed. "And here's hoping you never need to."

"How's the past few nights been?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Fucking cops."

Anti crouched down in front of her. "They giving you trouble?"

"Not really. Just told me to stop playing a few times." She gestured to her guitar that was tucked under her sleeping bag with her. Sean had seen her play before; she didn't play as much as she strummed the strings loudly somewhat in tune and sang popular songs, her voice making up for her lack of talent. It entertained drunks enough for them to throw dollar bills at her as they joined in the singing.

Anti swivelled to sit down on the cold pavement. "Hey, am I alright to ask you a favour?"

The woman nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it depends, but I did tell you the other night to feel free to ask."

Anti chuckled. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to Sean. "My friend, Riley, needs a burner phone."

The woman eyed up Sean and smirked. "Riley, eh?" And damn, now more than one other person knew Sean's alter ego name. He hoped the woman would keep it quiet. "Why do you need a burner?"

"Cause we're trying to protect our identities," Anti said, standing up again. The floor must have been too cold for him.

The woman laughed but then rose to her feet as well. "Okay," she smiled, "anything for you, Anti."

Anti instructed the woman to go to the cash machine, ask for emergency cash, then type in a special code. Anti explained to Sean that he always made sure to get an emergency cash code from his mobile app before leaving for patrol. "You never know what might happen," he laughed with a shrug.

The woman and Anti's money entered the shop, and two minutes later Sean had a new phone in his hand. It was shit, could barely do anything except text and make calls, but it would do. He got Anti's number and immediately sent a text to him: 'I owe you ;)'.

Anti had laughed at that. "I'm resisting the urge to make a joke out of the innuendo," and Sean had to put a hand over his own mouth to stop himself from laughing so loudly that every cop in the area would he running at them.

The two said goodbye to the woman, who Anti had let keep the change from the phone, and the two men started to make their way back to their roof. It was a good spot to look out for any problems, and was a safe space from the police.

As they entered a darkened alley, they both paused as they heard grunting and thudding sounds. Someone was getting hurt. They both sped up, as as they approached the end of the alley, they found the source. Huddled over on the ground was an older gentleman, crying and moaning in pain as he covered his head. Above him, three police officers. Sean jumped as every foot embedded themselves into the poor man's side. What the hell had this old man done to receive such treatment.

Sean glanced around the street to look for any other threats but was surprised to find a trail of daisies growing out of the cracks in the brick pavements, following a line leading up to the man, as if every footstep had inspired them to grow. The patch of ground around the man was no longer bricks but a patch of thick grass, flowers and tree saplings, all of which were growing so thickly, cocooning the man, causing the police officers to stumble as they kicked, balancing on one foot.

He was an Atom. This old gentleman, who had hurt no one, but simply was extraordinary, was being beaten to the ground because of hate and fear. Sean wanted to cry.

Instead, however, he took a step out of the alley. Anti put a hand on his shoulder. "Wait," he whispered, "what is your plan?"

Sean wiggled a finger at his chest. Anti asked, "You're gonna use your powers on them?" Sean nodded. "I don't think that's a good idea. You're outnumbered."

Sean looked at the three officers. Sure, he could only manipulate one at a time, but he had Anti as backup. If they had to get physical, he was sure, if Anti's biceps were anything to go by, that his friend would be able to handle it. Sean pointed at Anti.

Anti shook his head. "It won't work?" And why not? Sean was getting upset and frustrated. The groans of the old man were stabbing at his heart. He clenched his fists and decided to ignore Anti. He had to do something.

Sean ran. He ran towards them, hoping his echoing feet would scare the officers slightly. They heard. Sean stopped as one officer turned to face him, but upon seeing the mask covering Sean's face, he immediately reached for his gun.

Sean closed his eyes and focused on him. His pool of water should be lava, a hot, sizzling well of pleasure from pain, bubbling laughed and crackling smirks. But he couldn't feel it. The water was trembling, yes, but nothing was changing. It was his water, it was his emotions. He only felt himself, felt his own feelings, felt his own pain. And with a snap of his eyes and a sharp breathe, Sean could feel all his pain. His hand clenched his shoulder as he stumbled backwards. His hand felt warm.

Beyond the high pitched screatch of pain, he heard a man yelling, his deep voice pushing past the buzz. Anti. Sean felt the ground below him hit his knees, and through the glaze of his eyes he saw a figure run away. A blur of mass tugged back and forth in front of him, until something hit the ground. He hoped it wasn't Anti. The remaining figure walked close, and Sean closed his eyes as his head finally hit the ground. This was it. The research camp, the end of freedom, no more Mark.

Sean let the darkness sink over his eyes. Maybe death might come before then. Maybe he could escape the torture if he let the darkness drag him away.

The pool of water was leaking out of his chest, and soon, drop by drop, it ran dry, and Sean felt nothing.


	12. Fury in My Fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What have I done? *Hides in corner*

Mark was at a charity event that day, so Sean didn't have to threat much about him worrying where he was. He had finally gotten back at the house at one P.M. and had immediately curled up in bed. Jesus, his shoulder was still killing him. Not literally, thank goodness.

Sean lazily poked at the bandage. Anti had done a good job at patching it up, but the hospital had done a better job. It had been awkward, waking up to Anti trying to pull his mask off to assess his condition better, only for Sean to try and escape him, all the while still bleeding and dizzy. They had both stumbled behind a dumpster, where Anti tried to patch him up through his suit; Sean's tattoos on his arms were too recognisable for him to take the hoodie off.

They had parted, with Sean promising to go to the hospital, which he kept to, because he wasn't stupid. The bullet had taken a good chunk out of his shoulder. It hadn't embedded itself into him, thank God, so the doctors simply stitched him up and sent him on his way. They were probably fed up of seeing him in there by now.

Sean closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sheets below him drag him under. Sleep. That's what he needed to right.

His phone buzzed. His normal phone. Mark had texted. 'The CEO won't stop talking about potatoes. I think the two of you would get along'. Sean giggled but didn't reply to the message.

On a whim, he checked his burner phone as well. He and Anti had already been texting throughout Sean's hospital visit. 'You home safe?'

Sean smiled. He could tell Anti cared about him so much. It was heartwarming. 'Just fell into bed now'.

A few moments later, Anti replied. 'Good. You need sleep. You've been through a lot.'

Sean laughed at that. 'Oh, if you only knew.' With everything Atom and Mark related that had been stressing in his head lately, sleep was desperately needed. An escape from reality and overthinking.

'Talk to me.'

Sean looked at Anti's text for a while. He needed to talk to Anti about everything, for his own mental well-being. He needed someone to vent to, to ask questions to, to cry to. Sean typed out his message slowly, overthinking each letter as he tapped the awkward number-pad keys on the phone. 'I thought I was alone. I'm so glad I found you.' He thought that was a good place to start. Suddenly talking about your crush to your new friend was probably crossing a line.

'You're not alone, Riley,' came back Anti's reply, and Sean's heart skipped a beat. He was so fucking thankful he had found Anti. How was he supposed to respond to that?

Anti texted again so Sean didn't have to. 'How many people have you told?'

'Only you.'

'Wow, I feel special,' and Sean had to laugh at Anti's message. Anti texted again, 'Is there anyone you want to tell but can't?'

Sean thought about Mark, but he had to stop himself as his chest had started to ache again. This guilt was too much. 'Yeah, my best friend. I can't tell him though.'

'Why not?'

Sean thought for a long few minutes on how to word it. All this anxiety, all the fear, forced into a few simple words. 'I love him. I don't want him to think I'm controlling his emotions.' And there it was, simple.

Anti took his time responding. Sean waited in anxious silence, but after ten minutes of staring at the phone, he decided to try and settle further into the mattress to let sleep take him over. It was only as he glanced at the phone before sleep became too strong to resist that he saw Anti had finally replied: 'Geez, that's harsh.' Sean didn't reply. He was asleep.

\---

He drifting through a dream of Anti and him flying across the city, fighting crime and saving lives. It was pretty unrealistic, not a single cop to be found, but it had been nice.

When he woke, Sean eyed the two phones next to him before reaching to check the burner phone first. He was glad he did. Anti had texted, 'Have you seen the news?'

Sean frowned. He grabbed his normal phone, ignoring the text from Mark to pull up the internet. It was there, the homepage of the Los Angeles Times: 'Two Atoms Beat Up Cops'. "Fuck," Sean said out loud, sitting up sharply, only to be met with a stab of pain in his shoulder. He sank back down, holding back tears before he grabbed his burner to text Anti. 'Fuck, what the fuck are we going to do?'

Anti replied: 'The TV said that the police were releasing sketches of the masks tonight'.

And fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

He had to burn the suit. He had to get rid of it. He had fucked up now. God damn it, he should have listened to Anti last night when he warned him about not trying to attack. He should have stayed put.

Sean slowly made his way off his bed, careful to shift with his shoulder, and went to the car to grab his backpack. He brought it to the back garden, eyeing Mark's BBQ. That's have to do. Checking the neighbours weren't peaking out of the windows, Sean threw the clothes onto the grill, pouring lighter fluid he had found in the garage over the material, and one match later, Riley was dead. The flames flickered in front of his, dancing across the black fabric, eating at the cotton, and all at once, and after holding his breath throughout the whole set up, Sean finally let everything out. He fell to his knees and cried.

Mark had come home to find him still outside, now cross-legged, head hanging. The ashes lay kindling. "You alright?" he asked, taking a seat next to him.

Sean nodded. "Bad day."

Mark hummed, bringing an arm up to wrap around his shoulder. Sean flinched. Mark couldn't know about his injury. Mark noticed and retracted his hand. Instead, he chose to sit next to Sean in a comfortable silence.

It was only when the rain had started to drip that Mark broke the silence. "Hot cocoa?" Sean nodded.

\---

They had curled up on the couch in opposite ends, and it killed Sean not to be cuddled up next to Mark. But he had to. Mark had noticed the distance between them, and Sean could tell that he had spent the whole evening wanting to say something, but up until now he hadn't.

Sean had his burner phone hidden under the blanket. Anti was texting again. 'I'll think of something. Don't worry about it. Let's talk about something else.'

Sean had smiled slightly at that. He was started to really enjoy his friendship with Anti. Although it had been a few days, he could tell how much Anti cared about him. He realised he was staring at his phone for too long when another of Anti's messages came through. 'Tell me about your man.'

'He's not exactly my man,' he replied honestly. He spared a glance up at Mark, who was playing Candy Crush on his phone, ignoring the film they had put on. The distance between the felt so strong, and Sean had to look back at the phone to stop himself from reaching out to hold Mark. He added, 'I think he likes me, not sure.'

'Ask him, then.' Yet another person telling Sean to just ask Mark. He should, he absolutely should. Mark was right there. All he had to do was open his mouth and say.

And Sean did. His mouth opened.

Mark looked up from his phone. "Who you texting?"

Sean froze. The words jumbled in his mouth, and he sputtered syllables until they finally formed something coherent. "Some guy I met."

Mark's eyes widened. He didn't look away from Sean at first, but after a few seconds he let sadness wash over his face as he looked back down at his phone, unlocking it to continue his game. He mumbled his response. "Is he nice?"

Sean was fed up of lying at this point. It was killing him. So, he told the truth. "Yeah. He's awesome." He swallowed, his throat feeling dry. "Just great to have someone to talk to about things."

Mark drew in a breath. "You know, we can talk about stuff, right?"

And God, Sean could feel the tension, the distance between the two of them on the sofa growing further. He had to reach a hand out, he had to say something, he had to show Mark that he loved him. He had to, he just had to.

Mark scowled at him when he didn't respond. He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it again.

Sean closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears back. For fuck sake, why was this so fucking difficult?

He looked at his burner under his blanket to find Anti had texted, 'Are you coming out tonight? I need to vent.'

Sean went to reply, to tell him that yes, he too needed to vent by saving people, but then he remembered his suit. 'I can't. I destroyed my suit.'

'You destroyed it?!' Anti replied, and all the regret from burning it came flooding back, and he actually let a sob out. The pool in his chest was bubbling, needing to overflow. He glanced to the bathroom door - maybe he could cry in private - but then he gave Mark a look, only to find the other man looking up at him, his face full of concern. He had heard the little sob he had made.

He was fucking things up with Mark, he had to do something. So, he let the tears fall. He let it all come crashing out, and he buried his face in his hands. Mark shuffled closer to him, and Sean felt a hand on his shoulder, close enough to his bullet wound to make him jump, but not enough to be in pain. Fuck, Mark was going to find out.

He lifted his face to look at Mark, who had lent his forehead against his shoulder as he continued to wrap his arm around him. His arm was getting very close to touching and squeezing his injury. Sean panicked. Jesus, why did the world hate him? He thought of what he could do. Swizzle to face Mark? No, his arm would be holding hi tighter that way. He could physically reposition Mark's arm? He could, but Mark might question it and worry about him. He could pull back? No, Mark would think he didn't want to affection.

Sean panicked. He stood up. Mark stared at the space on the sofa where he had just sat, breathing rapidly.

Sean cried louder. "I'm sorry," he cried through tears. "I just can't right now."

Mark didn't respond. He let his face drop to a neutral expression, lent backwards and continued playing Candy Crush.

Sean fled to his room.

\--

'I need you' was all the message read, and Sean had cried harder at it. Anti was killing him. He had no suit, he didn't have time to go to the shop to buy something new, all he had was his and Mark's clothes, and going in Mark's felt cheap.

'What am I supposed to do?' Sean had begged. He was desperate.

'Please. I just need a friend.' Sean's mind was flashing back to every time one of his suicidal friends would send him a message in the middle of the night, or when he would get inboxes from fans begging for advice from their hero. He hurt him knowing that Anti was desperate.

It was still light outside. He had time to think. But before all that, he needed to send a text to someone else.

He opened his chat with Mark. "Bad day."

Ten minutes later, there was a soft tap at the door. Sean crawled off his bed and gently opened it, not fully, but enough to be face-to-face with Mark within the small space of the crack. Mark's eyes were heavy, but he gave a small smile. "You need a cuddle?"

Yes, Sean needed a cuddle. He rolled his aching shoulder. "I'm not in a physical mood today."

Mark nodded. "I don't like seeing you upset." He paused as he looked at the ground. "I know last week you said you weren't, you know..."

Sean closed his eyes. "I'm okay. I'm just dealing with too much mentally."

Mark softly smiled. "You've been saying that for a while." He licked his lips. "It was probably a good idea that we didn't start dating." Sean gasped and took a step back, which left his door vulnerable to Mark's push. Mark stepped into his room. "Juggling a relationship and mental health is a lot."

And Sean couldn't take it, because this fucker had been torturing him for no reason and this was enough. "No," he screamed, and Mark took a step back at his aggression. "I was stressing about you, you prick!" He was surprised at his own anger. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. "What the hell are we? Are we fuck buddies? Do you even like me?" Sean threw it arms out to emphasise his point, but the gesture pulled his shoulder. He yelped, jerking to grab it, turning his pained expression away from Mark.

Mark stepped closer, and Sean knew he probably hand a hand out to grab him, to comfort him. Sean turned his head to snarl at him. "Do you know what you've done to me, Mark?" He laughed through the pain. "I've been so fucking paranoid about what was going on between us. It had fucked up my head so much."

Mark glared at the ground.

Sean snarled. "I told you I was in love with you, and you gave me nothing!"

"We kisse-"

"Fuck you!" Sean turned away from him and went to his suitcase. He didn't mean any of his actions to be sinister, he was just tidying up his clothes back into his case, but he knew the difference interpretation Mark would be recieving.

The thump of Mark's fist against the wall made him stop. They both stilled, the silence echoing like a train in a tunnel, until Mark broke it with a growl. "Do you know how fucking irresistible you are?" Sean's chest shuddered. Mark's voice was low, like it was coming from his abdomen instead of his throat. "Do you know how hard I tried to keep my distance, so you had to space to deal with your mental health?"

Sean clenched the t-shirt in his fist. He didn't say anything.

Mark let out another growl, flinging his arm out, as if to hit the wall again, only to stop short of it and instead point it accusingly at Sean. "I tried so fucking hard, Sean. So fucking hard. But you are too much for me. I couldn't."

Mark turned to leave the room, but his feet made no effort to exit. "I want you so bad. I want you wrapped in my arms every morning, I want to walk along the beach with you in my hand, I want you to live here with me forever, but I can't have that. You have three weeks left here and your mental health was more important to me than the pressure exploding in my chest."

Sean let the shirt drop from his hand. Pressure in his chest? Sean only felt water, his own water that was bubbling and hissing with the temperature. He hadn't felt pressure.

Mark let out a choked sigh. "I need you." His voice was low and quiet, and Sean would have missed it if he was still moving the pieces of clothing around him. Sean's chest stung.

Mark left the house. An hour later, so did Sean.

* * *


	13. Water in My Chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but it was a short night for Sean.

It was strange, being out on the street without a dark mask over his face. The street lamps seemed brighter, the faces of those he passed more vibrant. Every officer he passed gave him a smile. He felt more free. He felt... human...

A couple was having a quarrel. Without stopping his walking, Sean latched onto the man and made him fall in love with her all over again. They fell into a kiss as Sean passed.

A homeless man was crying under a doorway, cold and wet from the rain, and with only a smile Sean made him feel drunk, the heat warming him up and making him merry.

One police officer was watching a girl as she walked past, a creepy look in his eye that Sean soon made sure disappeared, along with the officer as the unprompted fear of his wife at home being dead suddenly ran through his veins.

Sean's powers worked perfectly. It was the best he had felt in days. The water in his chest was red and bubbling, a pot on a hob spilling over, and he was ready to punch the first son of a bitch who dared bump into him. He felt on fire.

He didn't need Mark. He didn't need Anti. He didn't need Wade, or Bob, or Amy, or anyone. He just needed to feel his emotions rage outward and effect anyone it could reach. He wanted chaos.

Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the turning point for him. Maybe all Atoms were evil after all. All it took was a little push, and suddenly he was ready to make sure everyone around him did as he said and that no one felt a single emotion out of line. This was Sean's city now, and he felt amazing.

Why hadn't he done this sooner? Why had he always been hidden behind a mask? Why had he pretended to be someone he wasn't? It wasn't obvious he was an Atom, he looked normal enough. He should have just done this from the start. He should have done a lot of things differently.

A man was holding up a convenience store. He held a gun at the cashier. Sean only glanced once at the man before turning away to walk down an alley, and when he heard the gun fire, he knew the cashier was safe. Depression was an old friend of his, and it was the easiest emotion to assimulate.

Sean smiled.

He was surprised when he spotted Anti, there again his eyes were trained to look out for him now. To Anti, Sean was just another person on the street. He was a nobody, someone for Anti to hide from. He was perched on top of a roof, blending in with the decor poking out at the corner. Sean had thought about calling out to him, but that was stupid, so he pretended he hadn't spotted him, instead calming down a crying girl who had just been dumped by her girlfriend in front of her friends. All he did was make her feel angry. She did all the rest of the work herself, staining her fists red.

Turning a corner, he found himself faced with a young boy, probably only in his teens, cornered by a group of older men. Sean thought maybe the men were filthy, or maybe even angry, but a quick scan of them showed them to be concerned instead. It was the boy who was angry. He didn't approach, instead walking past at a respectable distance so he could hear in on what was happening.

The boy was begging, "Please, please don't let me lose control!" The men were trying to hush him, to calm him.

Sean stopped and lent against the wall opposite the commotion. He could have easily calmed him, that seemed to be the key to all this, but he was curious and riled up. He found the coil of red-hot pokers in the boy's chest and he heated them up.

The boy fell to the ground, and through the limbs of the men above him, Sean could see him contort and bend in unnatural ways. The grown men were screaming, running away, stumbling backwards onto their arses as the boy continues to twist and growl, extra limbs and tissue appearing until, with the hot iron inside still ablaze, he had grown ten feet tall, spindly and long like a garden spider. He let out a growl. Sean was entertained.

He shouldn't have been surprised that Anti had swept in to help; he was a hero, after all.

As he entered the scene, he looked around, giving a head count to all present. He spotted Sean and froze, and for a second Sean was worried that he had somehow recognised him as Riley, but then reassured himself that yes, he was famous, he got recognised by people all the time. Anti chose ignored Sean, instead choosing to stand between the fearful men and the creature that was trying to use its long, thin legs to skewer the men. The creature screeched at Anti, a leg hurtling toward the dark-clad figure, and Sean tensed and waited for the impact, but none came. The leg had shrunk as it flew, curling back into a mass of flesh until only the boy was left, huddling up under his ripped clothes, crying in fear.

Sean could have watched as Anti comforted the boy. He could have answered the scared man who had asked him to call the police. He could have walked over and said something to Anti. But instead he stayed there, staring at the back of Anti's head. He figured it out.

He rounded the corner and took his burner phone out of his pocket. His text to Anti was simple: 'You stop powers.' Anti didn't reply, he was too busy with the boy, but Sean didn't need a response. He was having the time of his life, finally being free enough to use his powers without consequence, and Anti would only slow him down. Literally.

Anti. What an interesting name. Anti-powers? Anti-Atom? Sean smirked. Just like his Anti, the Anti that slit his throat and made him his bitch, this Anti was only holding him back. He was repressing something that Sean was proud of. He was making Sean normal.

Sean was not normal. Sean was not human. He was beyond that. He was an Atom, a fucking Atom and he loved it.

Back at his car, he sat in the driver's seat and smiled. For the very first time since getting his powers, he actually felt powerful. He felt right, like his powers were a part of him now. They were used for good and bad, they could save and end lives, and Sean was so buzzed off of them.

Whether Mark could accept him as an Atom of not, he didn't care. Mark had pissed him off. If Mark couldn't handle the truth, then Mark didn't deserve him. This was who Sean was.

Emotional. Controlling. A pool of water.

Humans can drown in two inches of water.

The rain hadn't stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark!Sean! Please don't kill me. Sean did some bad, let him have his rage, he'll deal with the backlash later.


	14. Change in My Hands

He hadn't slept last night. He had come back in early hours of the morning, made a coffee, not really caring if it woke Mark - it didn't - and then locked himself in his room. He wasn't sure what to feel anymore. For as much as he felt free, felt the edges of his fingertips tingle with energy, an immense pride clutching his chest, he also couldn't believe the things he had done last night.

That gunman-

Sean hit himself in the face, full-on slap across his cheek which made him squince as it burnt. Shit. He wasn't going to think about him.

Last night hadn't happened. He forced himself to believe this. Last night was a mistake. He hadn't meant to let it get this bad. He was just angry, he just needed to let all his emotions out. This had been going on too long, way too long. His feelings for Mark had been aching him for years. Hiding secrets had been stabbing his side for almost two and a half months. He was done. Completely done.

He ignored last night, tried to calm down the power in his veins, instead focusing on his other issue: Mark. Mark was probably in the next room sound asleep, he probably had come back home after storming out the house and cried himself to sleep. For as much as Sean was furious at Mark for having not communicated his feelings across efficiently, Sean could also see why Mark would be mad at him.

It was five A.M. and the sun was beginning to peak through his curtains, warming the room in an orange glow. He could wake Mark up. He could go through now and wake him up with kisses. He imagined Mark's sleeping form, his floof flopped over his face, his peaceful look as he gently breathed. Sean imagined laying beside him, oh so careful as not to wake him, and placing a hand on his chest, a cheek on his shoulder, and just existing with him, beside him. He would let it soak in, let him enjoy the calmness, a stark contrast from last night, but eventually he would turn his face and let his lips press against Mark's neck. Maybe that would stir him. Not awake just yet, not aware of Sean, but enough that his breathing would hitch. Then Sean could move his lips slowly, let them mouth at Mark's neck lazily, find the crook where Mark's skin could fit between his teeth gently, then Sean could kill a man with his own gu--

Sean sat up. Fuck. He ran his hand roughly over his face, feeling the urge to slap himself into reality again, but the burn from the first slap still stang. Instead, he rolled off his bed and gently made his way to Mark's room. His imagination wasn't enough to distract him from the guilt. He needed the real thing.

He pushed Mark's door open softly and was immediately surprised to find that Mark wasn't there. Huh, that was strange. Opening the front door to check the drive, the absence of Mark's car further proofed what he had saw. Maybe he had gone out to the shops? Thinking about it, Sean hadn't heard anything all night. He remembered seeing Mark's car missing from the driveway when he got back. Why did he ever think Mark was safely asleep in the other room?

Sean pulled out his phone and called him. It rang for a long time, each ring tone sinking Sean deeper into worry, until eventually Mark picked up. "Sean?" His voice sounded gruff, like he hadn't slept. He probably hadn't.

Sean wanted to scream 'where are you?' so he could jump in his car and pick him up, but instead he settled with, "Hey, are you okay?"

Mark was silent for a moment. Sean heard his groan slightly and material shifted. Mark managed to groan out, "Not really. I need a bit of help."

"Shit, Mark-" Sean was putting his shoes on "- where are you?"

"In town. In my car. I-" Mark let out a yelp of pain. Fuck, what the fuck had happened to him?

"What happened?"

Mark was silent for a few seconds before replying. "Some guy jumped me."

"Oh fuck, are you okay?" Sean sat in his rental and turned the engine on.

Mark gave a chuckle through the pain. "Kinda, I think I might have broken a rib."

"Jesus. Look, where are you? I can't drive and call." The early sun was blinding, and Sean had to pull out a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment just to see the road.

"Wal-Mart parking lot," Mark groaned out. Good, Sean knew where that was, and with it being so early in the morning, it should be easy spotting Mark's car.

"Stay there, I'll be there in ten minutes." Sean hung up. He didn't want another car accident this week.

\--

He pulled up next to Mark's car, and immediately he started to panic. Through their windows, Sean could see Mark's face, despite wearing a smile at Sean's presence, the dried blood smeared across his temple and the cut on his lip did everything to make Sean not believe the smile. He jumped out of the car and got into Mark's passenger seat.

"What the fuck?" he gently said, as gentle as that expression can be spoken, and Mark chuckled.

"Hi, to you, too." The words caused him to cough. The coughs were shallow, one hand gripping his side, the other gripping the steering wheel to manage to pain.

"Are you okay?" Sean reached out to run his fingers over the dry blood. "Do you need to go to hospital?"

Mark shrugged, well, the best he could shrug considering his injuries. "I probably should."

"Why didn't you call me?"

Mark went quiet. It was only after Sean's fingers had moved from his cut to run through his hair that he sighed and answered. "I didn't want to worry you." And then, as if to add salt to Sean's wounds, he added, "I know what it's like to take a friend to hospital. It's scary." Sean clenched his other fist where the scar on his wrist from last week's cut was slowly healing. Yeah, Mark had taken him to hospital too many times; Mark had also not taken Sean to hospital even more times, Sean wanting to hide his injuries.

Sean understood why Mark hadn't called him. He was just as bad for doing it himself. Sean let his hand in Mark's hair fall gently to wrap around his shoulder. "Let's get you to hospital, eh?" Mark nodded.

They had to swap seats so Sean could drive. He could leave his rental here for now. Sean got out and rounded the car to help Mark get out of his side, letting Mark put all his weight onto his as he shifted from the high seats onto the ground. As they did this, Sean let his eyes glance to the back seat of Mark's car. A mask caught his eye.

He froze. "Mark?"

Mark followed his eyeline. "That thing?" He groaned as he lent himself against the car door frame. "Yeah, I pulled that off the guy who attacked me. Fucking creep."

Anti? Anti attacked Mark? The Anti he knew was sweet and caring- there again, the last time he and Anti were face to face, Anti had beaten up police officers. He had put one of them in hospital. Maybe, just maybe...

But what was Mark doing to deserve Anti's wrath? Sean opened his mouth to ask, but Mark had fallen into his grip, double over in pain. Fuck, he was so fucking angry at Anti. Pulling Mark's arm over his shoulder, wincing at his own pain as it tugged against his bullet wound, Sean helped Mark around into the passenger seat. Safely in the driving seat himself, they went to the hospital.

\--

The hospital was so familiar to Sean by now, the smell of chemicals and the sound of coughing and groaning. They waited together for four hours, not a long wait, and the doctor had determined that Mark had, indeed, fractured a rib. She had explained that there was nothing the hospital could do except give him pain meds, but before he went they wanted to give him an x-ray, just to be sure.

They had to wait for the x-ray. Mark was sat on a waiting room chair next to Sean, his head pressed into the wound on Sean's shoulder. Sean had stood up to change sides, but Mark said he preferred leaning to this side, and Sean couldn't say no to Mark. Not when he was like this.

Their hands were on their laps, and soon after they had settled down, Mark had found his and wrapped their fingers together. They waffled, and again, it made Sean chuckle thinking of the silly metaphor. Pancakes, waffles, it didn't matter; their fingers were wrapped around each other and Sean felt safe.

Maybe this was what he needed after all. No more Anti, no more Riley, no more secrets. Mark was his safety, Mark was where he felt safe, and now, after hearing Mark's side of the story, Sean knew that Mark felt the same. Not just that he loved him, but that he felt safe with him.

Could this really work? Could a relationship between the two of them really work? Long distance, Skype calls, months without touching each other... Sean could move to LA. He could pack everything back in Brighton and just leave. Spend forever with Mark.

It was tempting, and Sean had to squeeze Mark's hand to bring himself back into this moment. Mark squeezed back. Shifting, Mark lent his face up to look at the side of Sean's head. "I'm sorry."

Sean smiled to himself and lent his head further into Mark's hair. "Don't say sorry. Of course I'll look after you."

"No-" Mark sat up straight, and Sean silently thanked the gods his shoulder was now free from the pain "- I meant, I'm sorry about, you know..." He gestured between the two of them. "I'm sorry about everything that led to yesterday."

Sean bit his lip. Okay, they were having this conversation now. Part of him had hoped that they could talk once they got home and had the privacy, but now was as good as any time to do it. He whispered, "Did you mean it all?"

"Everything." Mark lent forward to press the tip of his nose to the edge of Sean's ear, whispering, "I love you."

Sean shuddered. God damn it, why were they in public and why was Mark injured, when they could have both been healthy in bed and half-naked by now.

Sean turned to look at him, their noses side by side. Mark's eyes were shut- they had been shut most of the day to deal with the pain- and Sean let himself slip forward to press his lips against him. He pulled back only a second later to whisper, "I love you, too," before kissing Mark again. They had to keep it toned down, there were two other patients in the waiting room, but no matter how brief it was, Sean's chest was still aching with happiness.

Mark's smile was content as he pressed his ear back to Sean's aching shoulder. Sean allowed himself to rest his head back onto of Mark's and joined him in the darkness behind their eyelids. Mark breathed in. "What does that make us now?"

Sean thought for a moment. "If we start dating, which I absolutely would love, by the way, just remember I live a million miles away."

Mark sighed. "Just stay."

"Not an option," Sean said sharply, but he hadn't meant it like that. The thought had been plaguing his mind and was annoying him how possible it could be. He added, "Not yet at least," to try and sooth the truth's sting.

Mark nodded into his shoulder. "I think we should be boyfriends."

And there was the word. Boyfriends. Sean had never had a boyfriend before. He didn't think Mark had either. This was new, this was strange, but everything had felt so right so far. Sean turned to press a kiss into the floof on top of Mark's head. "Boyfriends."

And that was that.

\--

They made it home an hour an a half later, and Sean had immediately confined Mark to his bed and told him he wasn't to move until he was better. Mark had laughed - they both knew he would be stubborn and move around tomorrow anyway - and settled beneath the covers to finally sleep.

Sean made himself some food, but something was bothering him. He felt terrible as he left his pasta to boil, taking Mark's car keys from the hook by the door, ignoring Chica as she ran up to his with a toy in her mouth to play, and sneaked to the car. He didn't know why. This was such a mistreat of Mark's trust.

He unlocked the car and pulled the back door open. Down in the footwell was a duffle bag, the mask haphazardly tossed on top of it. He picked it, the spandex material smooth against his fingertips as the visor of the mask reflected the glowing sunset behind him.

Maybe. Maybe Mark was telling the truth. Maybe Mark had gotten on the wrong side of Sean's nighttime pal and had taken his mask as a trophy of survival.

Perhaps. Or perhaps the duffle bag told another story.

Sean reached for the bag, lifting it up onto the seat. It felt light enough to be clothes. Maybe it was just a change of clothes Mark took with him everywhere in his car in case of a sudden downpour. Maybe it was a costume for one of Mark's sketches. Maybe it was Mark's swim trunks and a towel for when he goes to the beach. Or, perhaps it wasn't clothes at all. Perhaps it was a new blanket for Chica. Perhaps it was a shower curtain, or a wad of carpet, or toilet rolls, or a fishing net, or literally anything other than a black spandex suit covered in blood.

He closed his eyes as he gripped the zip. Jesus, why was he doing this? He knew the truth, somewhere in his heart, he always kinda knew. Maybe not directly, because sure, he still was in shock at the possibility, his hands shook at the thought, but thinking back on Anti, his body shape, the way he chuckled, his need to help others.

Sean's hand froze. No, he couldn't do this. This was too much, even for him. Mark trusted him, living in his house for three months, he trust him not to invade his privacy, not to go through his things. This bag was probably innocent, the mask simply a part of the truth Mark told him before.

If Mark was Anti, then Mark had every right not to tell Sean as Sean did not to tell Mark he was Riley. They didn't need to share that with each other. They were allowed their own secrets.

Sean threw the bag back where he had found it, hoping there wasn't anything fragile inside, and locked the car. When he got back inside, he jumped when he saw Mark in the kitchen. This past few minutes had put him on edge.

Mark was stirring his pasta, a hand holding his weight on the counter. "What have I told you about leaving your food unattended?" He turned the heat down on the stove. "You're gonna set our house on fire one of these days."

Our house. This was Sean's house. Well, not yet, but it could be. Sean liked the sound of that. Their house. His boyfriend.

And boyfriends don't keep secrets.

Sean crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms gently around Mark's waist, resting his cheek against Mark's shoulder blades. Mark chuckled. "You okay?"

Sean shook his head. Mark felt it. Sean took a breath in.

"Are you an Atom?"


	15. Change in His Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooooooooooooooo >:)

It was a warm night, but something in his veins caused him to shudder. The brick walkway beneath his shoes thudded into his soles and up his spine, and he knew he was probably going to get backache from it tomorrow. It was dark, spare from the orange glow of the street lamps littering the street. He wasn't sure why he was here, why he was out this late at night, but something was calling him. It tingled in his chest, almost as if there was a black hole that lived there. It was void, all-consuming, but it never seemed to affect him. It felt less of a parasite and more of a co-inhabitant, like it belonged there. It had been a few weeks that he had felt like this, and at first he wasn't sure whether it was his depression playing up. It hadn't been bad in a good few years, YouTube thankfully bringing him so much hope and reassurance. But right now, on this street, he felt like the black hole was guiding him, leading him to somewhere, a destiny of sorts.

This felt promising. Mark smiled.

He wasn't sure what Jack was going to think if he found his bed empty. They had lived together for a few weeks now, long enough to establish each other's sleep patterns, so a change might worry Sean. But there again, most nights Mark didn't hear from Sean. He stayed in his room, probably fast asleep all night, and Mark felt guilty when he thought to check up on him in case he woke him up, so always let him be. Sean probably wouldn't wake up tonight and check on him.

He were coming upon a bridge, a tall one that guided the main roads across it from one side of the city to the other. He could see the figure stood at the centre of it before he even stepped foot on the bridge. Part of his mind doubted this, questioned how safe it truly was, but the black hole insisted. He needed to speak to this man.

He approached with caution, but the man turned to give Mark a warm smile, and Mark felt better, like he had every right to trust the black hole. The man held out his hand to shake. "Hello, Mark."

Mark took the man's hand and shook it firmly. "Hi." Retracting his hand, he squinted. "So, how do you know my name?"

"Firstly, you're famous," the man replied, and Mark wanted to facepalm so badly. The man gave a small laugh before continuing. "Also, I brought you here."

The black hole. Was this man responsible for it? But how was that possible, unless this man was an Atom. Yes, that was surely it. Mark nodded. Yes, this man had certainly brought him here.

The man smiled. "I have seen many of us in this city, Mark." The man turned to watch the moon on the horizon. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Mark watched as well. "Yeah." He had seen this view million times before, all over the world.

The man hummed. "You don't seem convinced."

Mark shrugged. "Well, it's just the moon."

"And you don't see the beauty of it?"

Mark narrowed his eyebrows. What did this man want? "Well, no matter where you go in the world, it's always the same moon. Nothing's changed about it."

The man gave another laugh, his hand reaching for the railing to steady himself. "Oh Mark, you have no idea." He pointed up at the glowing orb. "That right there is the reason that we exist."

"Yeah, I know we're made of stardust, and all that."

The man reached out a hand to hold Mark's shoulders. "Stardust and moondust are very different things, my friend. Stardust maded us human, but moondust..." He turned back and held a hand to the moon in admiration. "The moon morphed us into something more."

"Something more?" Then Mark remembered his theory. "Atoms?"

The man smiled. "Precisely. What do you think the government was doing up there all that time? Why they kept the Apollo missions so secret?" He smirked. "You wanna know what powered Armstrong and Aldrin got back in 1969?"

No way. Mark had to think about breathing a second to get his lungs to work again. Moondust? That was what was in the detonation a few weeks ago? That was what was turning humans into...

The moon had given birth to the next generation of humans, humans with extraordinary powers and abilities. The moon had changed this dying planet and had given it sparks of hope.

The man chuckled. "So, I ask you again, Mark: "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Mark stared dumbfoundly at the moon, and all at once he found that everything had changed. The sphere that shone so bright was so fucking beautiful, so powerful, so life-changing that Mark had to reach a hand onto the railing to steady his awe-struck body. He nodded. Yes, it was beautiful.

It took him quite a few moments of silence between the two of them for Mark to speak again. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" The man turned to give him a smirk. "You're one of us."

Mark's breath became rapid. No. No, it can't be. "An Atom?"

The man bounced on his heals. "Ding, ding, ding, he gets it in one."

"But I don't have any powers!" Mark exclaimed. This didn't make sense.

"Tell me, Mark-" the Man turned so his body was fully facing Mark "- have you even met an Atom? Have you ever seen an Atom?"

Mark shook his head. Well, he had seen them on the news and on social media, but in real life, no, not really. He had his suspicions sometimes, but he had never seen evidence of it.

The man chuckled. "Perhaps it has something to do with your own powers."

"What are my power? Stupidity?"

"Well, you certainly had that power long before the government fucked everything up." And Mark had to laughed, because this man, he had no fucking idea who he was, but this man was so genuine and so funny, and the black hole inside his chest was a little obsessed with him.

The man stopped his own laughter and smiled. "Well, I'll give you an example. Well, it's less of an example and more of a demonstration." The man cleared his throat, as of he was giving a speech, but his speech was merely a few words long: "I have the power to read and mildly influence minds by simply seeing a face."

Mark's eyes widened and he nodded. "So, you can read my mind?"

"Yes. I'm a fan of your channel, so when I watch your videos, I can hear the thoughts of you in real time. Not the time of the video recording, but you actually in real life."

Mark took a small unconscious step backwards. "That's kinda creepy."

The man shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Can't help it, though. I'm trying to learn to tune it out."

"So, you know what I'm thinking?" Mark asked.

The man shrugged. "I know that your crush is currently staying with you for a few months-" (Mark raised his eyebrows at that because wow, someone other than Amy knows about his crush now) "- that Chica needs a new dog bed because she's chewed a hole in hers, and that you forgot to buy eggs yesterday and you know your crush is gonna be upset that you can't have French toast for breakfast tomorrow."

Mark blinked at the man, but then composed himself. He wanted to tell him he was impressive, or creepy, or whatever, but instead he winced. "Can you stop calling him 'my crush'? His name is Sean."

"I know," the man shrugged, "I don't really watch his channel, so to me he's just your crush."

"So, you haven't read his mind?"

"I don't purposely try to read minds. I'm just interested in you after I realised what you were." The man poked a finger at Mark's chest. "You feel that?"

Man raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I feel your finger on my sternum."

The man reached up to playfully slap Mark's cheek, making Mark laugh. "Told you the stupidity was always your power. No, you feel that? That thing in your chest?"

The black hole. Mark nodded.

"I can feel it too, when I read your mind. I felt it sucking the vicinity around you."

Mark stepped closer to the man. "What do you mean?"

The man shrugged. "It felt like it was trying to reach out and pull things towards it. At first I thought it was a physic object, like metal, or water, or something, but surely you would have noticed if you have some sort of kinetic powers."

Mark nodded.

The man continued. "So, what was it pulling?" He pointed up at the moon again. "Moondust."

Mark squinted. "Moondust?"

The man nodded. "Yep, moondust from Atoms."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean..." the man's arms waved wildely as he tried to form his next words. "Remember when I said I would give you a demonstration?" Mark nodded. "Well, here it is." He gestured between the two of them.

Mark blinked at him. "What?"

"I can't read your mind right now." The man laughed. "When you go to the edge of the bridge, I knew my theory was right. My powers disappeared. I could hear your thoughts all the way from when you turned the corner back there, but then you got into my vicinity then suddenly- poof! No more voices in my head. Just a normal human."

Mark stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. You've never met an Atom because every Atom who goes near you becomes human again as you move the moondust in their cells."

Mark ran a hand over his stubble. "That makes no sense."

"Neither does reading minds, or teleporting, or walking through walls, or whatever the fuck all these Atoms keep doing on the news." The man smirked. "You're one of us, Mark!"

Make sighed. "What am I supposed to do? My power is useless."

"Useless? Mark, you might, by far, have the most useful power ever." The man turned to the moon again. "Our beautiful Luna has gifted us with these powers, but some people don't respect her gift. They use it for crime, for greed." He winked at Mark. "What if there was someone there to intervene? To stop them during the act, to eliminate their powers, make them human again enough so they can be arrested?"

Mark took a step back, extending his arms out in front of him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You want me to be a vigilante? You know that's illegal, right?" Jesus, what was this man getting him into? He could be arrested. He could be shot. He could be killed.

The man laughed. "Do you know how rich I am, Mark? I can get you out of any situation. Legal troubles, medical bills. You want a bulletproof suit? Sure thing, I know a guy. Makes an amazing bulletproof spandex shit that runners can wear, it's awesome."

Mark sighed. "What do you get out of all of this?"

The man, for the first time in this conversation, let his eyes turn serious as he looked Mark in the eye. "I hear what everyone on the streets think. They hate Atom. They think we are all criminals and should be exterminated. These criminals, they're making a bad example of us. If we could reduce Atom crime, and at the same time show that there are Atoms who are willing to help humans and save the day, then - two birds, one stone - we can show them that Atoms are not bad."

Mark sighed. "So, you're some rich dude who's just trying to do the right thing?"

"Also, I'm your biggest fan and I just wanna be friends with you."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I fucking knew there was a catch."

The man smiled. "So, deal?"

Mark closed his eyes to think for a few seconds. This was a lot. This could change his life; there again, this could change the lives of so many others. He was torn. Logic told him to say no, but his heart was screaming for him to help. He thought of Sean. What would Sean do?

Mark sighed. "I'll need time to think about it, but-"

The man cut him off. "Brilliant! I'll have the suit ready by tomorrow night, meet me here and I'll brief you."

For fuck sake, what had he gotten himself into? An Atom? He was an Atom?

Shit. What was Sean gonna think? Mark bit his lip as he mentally promised himself that Sean would never find out about this. He couldn't. He would worry, he would hate him, he would not love Mark back, and Mark couldn't lose Sean.

Mark gave another look to the moon. It was beautiful. "I'll think about it," he promised, and he did think. He thought a lot. He went with his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry about the perspective change. But hey, now you know!!! So, this is coming to the end of this story now :( I know, I know, I'm sad too, but I feel like this one needs to conclude soon, and I've covered all-but-one of the plot points I initially planned way back when I started writing this, and the last plot point is a conclusion. So, it's about time to wrap this up.
> 
> Mark is an Atom. Sean is an Atom. They're both idiots, but at least now they're starting to be on each other's pages.
> 
> I'll write a few more chapters to tie up loose ends, but other than that, stick around for the conclusion to this story! Thanks again for joining me on this adventure!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment your thoughts. I take both compliments and constructive criticism, and if you leave a negative or harmful comment, you get a special shout out over on Reddit so I can mine those sweet, sweet karma points, so have fun down there!
> 
> Updates will be regular, hopefully, so if you have an idea for a plot thread, or you think something should be changed, let me know. Not sure how long this fic will be, but I'm guessing 10K+, probs, idk, I exclusively read 5K+ fics, so expect something big (I hate it when plots aren't paced either, so be thankful I try to make decent stories and know when to end things. Guess bring a film editor is good for something, I guess.)
> 
> Anyway, I ramble too much. Thanks for reading, bye, I guess.


End file.
